


Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things

by nameless_bliss



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec's POV, Body Shaming, Explicit Language, Insecure Alec Lightwood, M/M, Negative self-image, Non-Chronological, Panic Attacks, Present Tense, Prompt Fic, Sexual Content, Various stories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2018-06-03 19:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 264,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6623803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nameless_bliss/pseuds/nameless_bliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <img/>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>In which Alec Lightwood confronts a lifetime of issues about his appearance, and slowly, with a lot of help, learns that he’s allowed to be pretty.</p>
<p>A Prompt Fill continuation of the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/430711">"Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things"</a> series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back to the ALDNT 'verse! 
> 
> Some basic notes about this fic:
> 
> 1\. Though it's not listed as part of the ALDNT series, I would recommend reading the series first, since a lot of the events and overall characterizations specific to those fics will feature heavily in these stories.
> 
> 2\. This is a prompt fill fic. I _love_ getting prompts from my readers, either here, or on my [tumblr](http://my-nameless-bliss.tumblr.com/tagged/alec-lightwood-deserves-nice-things). I am always accepting prompts, and please feel free to send as many as you'd like!
> 
> 3\. Some of the prompts I've received have been lengthy and worked better split into multiple stories. Some have been short and worked better combined with others. Some prompts were very similar ideas but with different details that I couldn't address in one story. Because of this, I won't be posting the actual prompt each chapter is based on, just because it isn't always one prompt per chapter. 
> 
> 4\. Unlike the original ALDNT series, this story is not going to be presented in chronological order. I'll be sure to make it very clear when each story takes place.
> 
> 5\. As always, thank you so, so much for reading! I keep receiving the most incredible responses to the original series, and I am constantly honored and humbled by the things you've been saying. It means so much to me to see the continuing support for this story, and the support for Alec Lightwood having nice things.
> 
> **6\. Update!** I've started posting bonus content for this series. The collection of ALDNT Extras can be found on [tumblr](http://my-nameless-bliss.tumblr.com/post/151811763161) or [ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8783161/chapters/20134711), and any new content will be added to both of those links.

“May I?”

Magnus’s fingers brush lightly across the top button of Alec’s shirt.

Alec’s mouth dries up. Blood rushes to his face. Blood also rushes somewhere _else._ It’s like all of Alec’s bodily fluids decided to simultaneously stop doing what they’re supposed to be doing.

Alec’s lungs must have gotten the memo too, because suddenly he can’t catch his breath.

Magnus has seen Alec without a shirt before. He’s seen his bare chest. He knows what it looks like. That’s nothing new.

But it’s one thing for Magnus to see him shirtless when Alec is training. It’s a _very different thing_ to have Magnus see him shirtless while Magnus is - by the Angel - while he’s straddling Alec’s lap, pressing him into the couch that is not even slightly big enough for two grown men to be sprawled across it like this.

Magnus’s finger just keeps circling the little button, making his intention pretty fucking clear, without actually going through with it. He’s waiting for Alec. He’s waiting for Alec to give him permission.

Alec looks up at him. Where he’s hovering over him, knees on either side of Alec’s hips, supporting his weight on one hand that’s right next to Alec’s head. He looks… fuck. Alec gets hit with a sharp pang of awareness that this is _Magnus Bane,_ this is an unbelievably sexy and elegant and _beautiful_ man, this is a man with more experience than Alec could possibly fathom.

His hair is mussed. His lipstick is smudged all the way down to his chin. His shirt is rucked up and wrinkled. He’s panting, out of breath. His eyes are bright, and eager, and almost… sort of… hungry.

Because he’s been kissing Alec.

And somehow, that’s _still_ not enough for him. He wants to get Alec’s shirt off. He wants to have _more_ of Alec available to him. So he can make himself even more breathless, more desperate, more wrecked…

Because of _Alec._

If they hadn’t already made it this far, Alec would probably be asking Magnus if he’d mistaken him for someone else.

It’s only their second date. Alec can’t… he can’t even process that. That someone like Magnus actually wanted to have a _first_ date with him, much less a second. And then, that someone like Magnus only needs two dates - only a few precious hours of interaction - to want to do this, to want to pin Alec to the couch and kiss him stupid and ask so nicely if he can take off his shirt. That he… that he likes Alec. That he… yeah. That he _wants_ Alec.

It doesn’t make any sense.

And now he’s not even saying anything. Even though Alec _still_ hasn’t answered him and has just been staring stupidly up at him with his mouth gaping open like a fish. He just keeps touching that top button, so gently.

Part of Alec wants to say yes, rip the shirt off, shred it into tiny pieces if that’s what Magnus wants. Because part of him wants to give Magnus anything he shows even the slightest interest in. Part of him can’t imagine ever saying no to this man, not when he wants Alec like this. How could he? How could Alec possibly see someone _wanting_ him like this, and decide he’s not interested? This is _Magnus,_ and Alec has wanted him since the first time he saw him, even if it took him way too long to understand that. This is Magnus, and he wants Magnus, and Magnus wants him, and how can Alec possibly deny him that?

But there’s another part of him, one that’s much bigger and deeper and too permanent for him to question. The part of him that realizes that this isn’t just about Magnus wanting Alec in a vague, directionless sort of way. This is about Alec’s body. Magnus wants Alec’s body. And Alec can’t… can’t deal with that. If Alec can’t even stand the sight of his bare chest, how can he possibly let Magnus see it? Not only that, but be so _close_ to it, to touch it, to give it the type of affection that Alec knows he can’t stomach seeing someone so beautiful give to something so awful.

He wasn’t prepared for this. He didn’t think… even with how much Magnus has teased and flirted, and even with how much kissing had happened at the end of their previous date, Alec still didn’t think Magnus would want this. Want him like this. He hadn’t even considered it. And now, here he is, with a gorgeous man straddling him and asking to take his clothes off, and if Alec says yes to this, how many more questions will there be tonight? Is it just his shirt, right now, or is it his shirt, then his pants, and then is he having sex with Magnus before the night is over?

Just the thought makes Alec’s whole body shudder. It’s not that he doesn’t want… that. He does. He thinks he does. But that’s- for now, that’s too much. He can’t handle that yet. The thought of getting naked in front of anyone is enough to make him feel queasy. If he had to get naked in front of _Magnus_ tonight he thinks he might actually vomit, and that’s not exactly the ‘first time’ story he wants to be stuck with. And that’s just the start of it. Being naked, being with Magnus, naked, with Alec having no idea what the fuck he’s supposed to do and probably doing everything wrong- and sure he knows the _basics_ of what happens, but he doesn’t think he’s prepared for it, for Magnus to do any of _that_ to him, and just his stupid luck he probably wouldn’t even be able to get hard or he’d come before they even started and he can’t let that happen it’s too much and he just can’t handle it he can’t he _can’t-_

“I don’t want to have sex tonight.”

Alec’s barely finished blurting it out before his eyes go wide. And his throat closes up. And his whole body freezes.

He said that.

He actually fucking said that.

He said those words to Magnus Bane.

Magnus Bane asked if he could take off Alec’s shirt, in the middle of a make-out session that was easily one of the top three best experiences of Alec’s entire life, and Alec stared at him in silence for a solid minute and a half-

And then he’d said _that._

Maybe he won’t have to deal with this. Maybe he’ll die from embarrassment before Magnus can respond.

Magnus definitely looks… something. Startled, maybe? Probably horrifically offended? Wondering why the fuck he’s subjected himself to two entire dates with Alec Lightwood when he could have literally anyone else in the fucking universe (preferably someone who doesn’t blurt out stupid shit like ‘I don’t want to have sex with you’ for no fucking reason right in the middle of high-quality kissing)?

Alec’s not really sure what he was _expecting_ Magnus’s reaction to be, but Magnus starts moving away from him, righting himself and shifting back so he’s sitting on Alec’s thighs instead of straddled over him. And even though Alec is the one who just said he wasn’t interested, it still feels like a rejection, like he’s ruined something, and _fuck,_ how horrible does Alec have to be to ruin something that was so good?

“I-I’m sorry-” he stammers, desperate to fix the expression on Magnus’s face because it looks dangerously close to disappointment and Alec can’t handle being responsible for that. “I just… I wasn’t expecting to- wasn’t expecting th- _that,_ and I know-”

“Alexander.”

“I know I should have said something… something sooner, I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner I should have _said-”_

“Alec.”

“I just- just- I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know how to do any of this I’m sorry-”

_“Alexander.”_

Magnus leans over him again, with one hand on the back of the couch, and the other on the arm of it, next to where Alec’s head has been awkwardly propped up for a good twenty minutes. But this time, Magnus raises himself up onto his knees, so he’s hovering over Alec, but not… not actually touching him (and fucking hell, how did Alec fuck this up so bad that he doesn’t even want to _touch_ him now?).

Magnus just… waits there, like that, for several seconds. Like he’s waiting to see if Alec’s going to keep going. But now that Alec has finally managed to shut himself up, he’s not planning on speaking again until he gets back to the Institute - and even then, he might wait a few days.

Once he seems satisfied that Alec is done, Magnus…

Smiles. He smiles, just a little bit. Just a small, calm smile. Alec wasn’t expecting that. “Alexander, you don’t have to apologize.”

Alec’s first instinct is to apologize for apologizing, but he manages to stop himself in time.

Magnus keeps smiling, but somehow, he also looks serious. “We don’t have to have sex tonight. Or tomorrow night. Or _ever,_ if you don’t want to. And that’s nothing to apologize for-”

“No, that’s not-!” Alec sputters, awkwardly pushing himself up onto his elbows. “It’s not… that. I do… I am… interested. In that. It’s just… not right now. Not yet.”

Magnus takes a moment before responding. “Were you uncomfortable?”

Alec’s just about to explain the crick in his neck when he realizes what Magnus actually means. “Oh. No. Not at all.” He can feel his face heating up, and he’s profoundly grateful that the only light in the loft right now is whatever’s coming in from the windows. “I… uh, I was… I liked it.” The corner of his mouth quirks up into something he hopes looks like a smile. “That part was… nice.”

Magnus just smiles again. Smiles, like he’s happy to hear that. Like he’s _happy_ to know that Alec ‘liked’ getting to kiss him. It doesn’t make any fucking sense.

“But there was… um,” Alec fumbles for the right words. “When you asked, I… I thought it might mean… more.” He glances away, because he’s not capable of having Magnus _look_ at him like that while he’s trying to talk. “And I… panicked.” Alec actually laughs at that, because he can hear exactly how pathetic it sounds.

But Magnus doesn’t laugh. He tilts his head, like he’s thinking. “Alright.” He waits until Alec nervously meets his gaze again. “Let’s make a rule. When I ask if you want something, I’m asking for _exactly_ that. Nothing else. So if I ask to unbutton your shirt, that’s all it is. And if I mean that I want things to go further, then I’ll ask for that.” He reaches down to gently brush the hair off of Alec’s forehead. “And the same goes for you. We ask for what we want, and we know that it doesn’t imply anything more.” He smiles again. “Deal?”

Alec feels, he feels like everything has just… shifted a bit. But not in a bad way. It’s like the ground had been tilted and now it’s finally been righted.

And Magnus is smiling at him, like it’s nothing. Like it’s easy.

Alec’s mouth moves, but his throat hasn’t caught up with his brain yet. “Th-that sounds… good. Yeah.”

Magnus’s smile splits open, and it’s unbearably beautiful, and Alec doesn’t understand how lying here and agreeing _not_ to have sex with him tonight could make Magnus look so… happy.

Magnus starts to lean back down, which - _oh_ \- Alec hadn’t realized how much he’s been wanting Magnus’s weight and heat pressed down on top of him again. “Alexander, can I unbutton your shirt?”

Alec grins, and it feels open and a little stupid and so very _excited._ “Please, yes.”

This time, Magnus laughs. But not at Alec. He laughs like he’s excited too.

And then he keeps leaning in, and yes, _yes,_ he’s kissing Alec again. And… damn. Alec doesn’t know how he’s survived all these minutes without it. Magnus’s mouth is so ridiculously soft, and he’s so _gentle_ with it. His lips are barely parted. And he’s just barely brushing them against Alec’s. And after a moment, he’s just _barely_ touching his tongue to Alec’s lower lip.

It’s so little. So soft. So delicate.

But Alec feels like he’s _dying._ His whole body is lit up, like a fire sparked somewhere deep in his gut and it’s spreading all the way through to his fingers and toes. He gasps against Magnus’s lips, which _would_ be embarrassing, but it gives Magnus the chance to get his tongue a little further into Alec’s mouth and Alec can’t give a fuck about anything else.

Magnus’s teeth catch Alec’s lip and Alec makes a sound he’s never made before. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, he’s still aware of that - but by the _Angel_ it’s a lot harder to care about his lack of technique when he’s pushing his hand up the back of Magnus’s shirt. Alec knows he needs more, so he parts his lips and makes his best effort to taste the inside of Magnus’s mouth. It feels clumsy and uncoordinated and-

Oh, shit. _Shit._

Magnus _moans._

Alec’s gonna die. He’s gonna die or melt into goo or come in his pants or something else horrible and he’s starting to think this is probably just some fantastic dream.

Magnus moves away from Alec’s mouth, and he immediately wants to beg him to come back, but then Magnus is kissing his cheek, his jaw, down onto his neck. And each kiss is longer and _wetter_ and sometimes there’s teeth-

“Ah! Yeah,” Alec gasps, because he needs to let _some_ of this out or he’s going to suffocate.

Magnus makes a sound against Alec’s neck, a sound that Alec can’t quite define but definitely sounds like he’s enjoying himself. Fuck, it’s almost like he’s _trying_ to kill Alec.

As Magnus’s tongue traces along the shape of the rune on Alec’s neck, his fingers go back to that top button. And this time, he doesn’t hesitate. He unbuttons it.

Alec sucks in a sharp breath. Because yes, he may have been given closure on the whole ‘not emotionally ready to have sex tonight’ thing, but he’s still very much dealing with the ‘not emotionally ready to subject Magnus Bane to his awful torso’ thing.

It’s just the top button. Barely anything. A bit of his collarbone. A sliver of chest hair. It’s not much. It’s fine. He’s fine. He’s not gonna ruin this. He’s _fine._

Magnus’s mouth trails down to the base of Alec’s throat, with wet, scraping kisses that make Alec’s bones feel like jello. Without pausing, Magnus undoes the next button.

Alec keeps breathing. He has to. It's all he can do. And he can barely do it. In, and out, and in… and in…

There’s muscle now. Harsh muscle. Covered in coarse, dark hair. Everything about him is rough and Magnus’s hands are so _soft_ and Alec doesn’t want him to have to feel so much roughness against his soft skin-

Magnus keeps going. Undoing each button easily, never fumbling, keeping his lips against Alec’s neck the whole time. Before Alec can regain enough clarity to panic and call the whole thing off and slink back to the Institute, Magnus is undoing the last button. He smooths his hand across Alec’s stomach, and the shirt falls open to his sides.

Alec isn’t breathing. Not as much as he knows he needs to. He gasps in little gulps of air and holds them too long, like he’s afraid he won’t be able to get another. His heart is pounding so fucking hard that he wouldn’t be surprised if it was loud enough to give Magnus a headache. And Magnus… no…

Magnus is pulling away from him again. Pushing up on the arm of the couch so he can sit up. Sit back, right on Alec’s lap, and look at him. Look at him, like this.

Alec’s been seen in less than this. He wears less than this when he trains. It’s not like that's a public display, but people see him. People see him wearing less than this every damn day of his life. His shirt isn’t even gone. It’s falling off of his shoulders, but it’s still on him. It’s just hanging open in the front.

But it’s the most exposed he’s ever felt in his life. And it’s in front of _Magnus._

Alec can’t see this. He doesn’t know what Magnus is going to think, but he knows he doesn’t want to watch.

He almost flinches when he feels Magnus’s fingers brush the hollow at the base of this throat. It’s unexpected. It’s part of him that’s been exposed all night, and he’d thought Magnus would…

The fingers trail off along his collarbone, a feather-light touch that almost _tickles_ against how tightly Alec’s nerves are wound. And it’s… it’s almost nice. Just a gentle point of contact heading toward his shoulder.

But then Magnus’s hand changes direction, centering back and slowly, _slowly_ slipping down to Alec’s chest. He feels the the delicate pads of Magnus’s fingers slip through the hair that seems to cover him so horribly thickly all the way down his stomach. The touch is too soft. Magnus is too soft. He shouldn’t be doing this.

Magnus exhales, slow and even. Alec can’t look. He doesn’t want to know. He can’t know-

“Beautiful.”

Alec chokes in a breath. His eyes snap open and look up at Magnus, to try and figure out what that was…

And Magnus is looking at him. Looking at _him._ His hand is resting lightly on the center of Alec’s chest. He brings up his other hand and cradles it against Alec’s cheek. He’s looking right at him. Looking him right in the eye. And he’s smiling. The same small smile he’d had earlier.

“Alexander, you’re so beautiful.”

No, that-

That can’t…

He’s… not.

Alec’s face feels hot, especially under Magnus’s hand. His eyes sting. And he doesn’t get it.

Magnus just keeps _smiling_ at him like that, that tiny little smile that makes it look like it’s all so easy, like everything makes sense, like he _didn’t_ just make a dent, a crack in Alec’s world. Because he’s never… he’s never heard _that..._

Magnus keeps looking him over. Keeps smiling. The hand on Alec’s chest starts moving again, tracing around the shapes of his runes. Brushing carefully against his scars. Running through his hair. Across his muscles. The harshness. The ugliness.

And calling it…

Calling _him…_

Alec can’t get enough air. He can’t think. He can’t _focus_ on anything but that little smile on Magnus’s face. The way his voice had sounded. The spark of heat when he dips his finger into Alec’s bellybutton before moving back up toward Alec’s chest again.

It’s like everything is kinda… fading out. Everything except Magnus’s touch, and his voice, and his small smile. And Alec just feels… need. By the Angel, he _needs_ this.

He’s raised himself up on his elbows before he realizes he’s moving. And he gets one hand on the back of Magnus’s neck and pulls him down because he needs to kiss him right now, he needs it, he needs it more than he’s ever needed anything.

It’s not like when Magnus is in control. Those kisses are soft and smooth and somehow practiced, like they’ve been kissing their whole lives instead of a handful of times over a week and a half. This isn’t like that at all. This is sloppy, and inelegant, and it’s embarrassingly clear that the one with no experience is the one taking the lead.

But… _fuck._ Alec doesn’t care. Because his tongue is lost in Magnus’s mouth and his teeth are scraping Magnus’s lips and Magnus is groaning into Alec’s kisses and… damn… he just keeps _groaning_ like that.

How can Alec be doing this? How is Alec able to affect him this much?

Magnus’s touch on Alec’s chest suddenly burns, a sweet, desperate sort of burn that matches the heat building in his gut. It’s like Magnus is-

Sparks.

It’s _sparks_ of heat.

Alec cracks an eye open… and there’s blue, flickering across his torso, trailing from Magnus’s fingertips onto his skin. The sparks burst and disappear with a pulse of heat that makes Alec feel like his blood is on fire.

One of Alec’s hands loops around Magnus’s back, trying to pull him closer. Alec’s kissing him as deep as he can, as deep as he knows how, until they’re _both_ making a constant stream of obscene sounds that never make it out of each other’s mouths. And it’s still not enough. Alec wants to feel Magnus’s weight over him again, wants to feel Magnus pressed down against him, wants to be completely _smothered_ by him. The arm supporting Alec gives out, so he can fall and lie on his back again-

The back of his head slams into the barely-padded arm of the couch. Hard. With a deafening _thud._

“Fuck- _ow!”_ Alec practically shouts.

But he’s laughing.

His head hurts like a _fuck_ but for some reason that’s fucking hilarious and he’s giggling. He’s actually giggling. Like an idiot.

Magnus is lying on top of him, arms resting on Alec’s bared chest, and he-

Shit. He’s laughing too.

He looks worried, like he’s reasonably concerned that Alec just injured himself on a damn couch, but he’s definitely laughing too.

They’re laughing.

They were kissing. Passionately. Frantically. There was actual, literal _magic_ sparking between them.

And now, they’re laughing.

Alec wasn’t expecting this.

He thought it’d be stoic. Breathy and sexy and silent. He thought being with someone like this would be so… serious.

He didn’t know it could be _fun._

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” Magnus asks, completely out of breath (for multiple reasons). The words broken by truly _adorable_ little giggles.

Alec can feel himself blush like a moron at the word ‘sweetheart’, but for some reason, that only makes him laugh harder. He nods, since he can’t talk yet. He realizes that both his hands are wrapped around Magnus’s waist, and he’s rubbing them back and forth along the shape of his spine. Magnus’s shirt feels impossibly soft under Alec’s hands. He still can’t catch his breath. They’re both still laughing.

It’s so… nice.

It takes a few more seconds for Alec to be able to speak. “It’s just-” His stomach hurts. He’s literally tired himself out by laughing. “It’s just this damn couch,” he chokes out. “It’s not big enough for actual-sized people.” He wiggles his bare feet where they’ve been awkwardly hanging off the other end this whole time.

Magnus pushes himself up, his hands pressed down on Alec’s shoulders. He glances them both over, seeing how they’re crammed together and pretty close to falling off onto the rug.

“Hm.” He raises an eyebrow. “It _is_ rather crowded.” He smiles down at Alec, wide and warm enough that Alec feels something constrict in his chest. “Should we move this to the bedroom?”

Alec’s pretty sure he’s never turned this red this fast before. And of course, it’s when his shirt is open, so he can _see_ that his blush is covering his whole damn body.

He didn’t think people actually _said_ that. He thought that was just a fake thing, a convention in movies and tv and possibly porn? He didn’t think it was a real question people asked. He didn’t think that _he_ would ever actually be asked if he wants to move to the bedroom. Certainly not by a beautiful, breathless man sitting in his lap.

Except… even though they’ve already had this discussion (barely even five minutes ago), Alec can’t quite wrap his mind around being in Magnus’s _bed._ It’s so… it carries so much expectation. There are so many extra connotations when the word ‘bedroom’ is used in this situation. And while the conversation is still fresh in his mind, he can’t squash the hint of worry nagging at him-

Magnus is one step ahead of him. Alec wonders if that means his worry was already showing  plainly on his face, or if Magnus just… gets him. Understands what he must be thinking without having to ask. Either way, he smiles, and sits back a little further, giving Alec a bit more space. “My bed is not a contract, Alexander,” he says calmly. “Being in bed with me doesn’t mean that we’ve agreed to do anything more than we’ve been doing out here. If you wanted, we could lie on opposite sides and not even acknowledge each other. We’d just be a lot more comfortable than we are now.”

Alec opens his mouth. And closes it again. Because…

Shit. It’s so obvious. Why didn’t he realize? Why did Magnus have to explain something that simple to him? Why is everything…

Why is everything with Magnus so… easy?

Alec tries to smile, but it’s like his entire fucking face gets shy, because he can tell that it doesn’t quite work. “Yeah. The bed sounds nice.”

It turns out that it’s just as difficult for two grown men to get _off_ of this couch as it was for them to stay on it. It takes them a moment to really disentangle from each other, and Magnus very nearly loses his balance as they get to their feet. He holds onto Alec’s arm for support, and isn’t that something? Magnus, awkwardly hanging onto Alec to steady himself. It’s… it’s not something Alec expected to see.

Magnus’s hand slips down Alec’s arm, twining their fingers together. And Alec feels something that he assumes must be what people mean when they say their heart skips a beat.

Once they’re both securely on their feet, Magnus leads Alec to the bedroom. It’s just enough distance, just enough time for Alec to lose his nerve, to really think about where they’re going, and what’s happening. But Magnus’s hand is so warm, and so steady, and so _certain._ It’s so easy to follow him. To trust him.

Magnus flicks his wrist when they enter the bedroom, and a lamp on the nightstand slowly turns on. It’s not really _brighter_ than the city-lit living room, but the light is warmer. It makes everything… glow a bit. The rich purple bed covers, the gold throw pillows, even Magnus himself. Everything is softened in the amber light.

Before Alec has a chance to wonder what he’s supposed to do now, Magnus uses their joined hands to pull Alec against him. He kisses him right away. Gentle, but _deep,_ deep enough that it actually makes Alec’s knees go weak, like he’s in a goddamn romance novel.

Magnus’s hands slip into Alec’s open shirt, splaying out on the small of his back. And his hands feel so damn _good_ against Alec’s bare skin. So good, that without a second thought, Alec tips back his shoulders and lets his shirt fall to the floor. There’s a brief moment where the air feels cold on his back, but then Magnus _whimpers_ into the kiss and Alec doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to feel cold again.

They’re right next to the bed. But breaking a kiss, breaking _this_ kiss to lie down sounds like absolute agony. So Alec just… falls back onto the bed, gracelessly pulling Magnus down with him. They collapse in a haphazard jumble of limbs, a jumble that’s all knees and odd angles and nothing lining up the way Alec wants it to.

Magnus just laughs, and pulls back far enough to let Alec sort of… shimmy backwards, so he’s laid out against the pillows with a bit more dignity.

He expects Magnus to pick up right where they left off on the couch, and climb into Alec’s lap again. But instead he reaches out and gently nudges Alec’s knees apart, so when he scoots in close, he’s between Alec’s legs.

It’s not that different, conceptually. The position is very similar. Alec realizes that. But it feels… oh.

He wraps his legs around Magnus’s hips, and pulls him in closer. It feels _incredible._ Being able to reel Magnus into him with his legs, to wrap him up and hold him as tight as he wants. Having such a clear way to let Magnus know that this is exactly where he wants to be, where he wants them _both_ to be. Alec doesn’t have words to describe how good it feels.

But Magnus must get the idea anyway, because he gives Alec what he wants, and kisses him again. Those same deep, bruising kisses that burn in Alec’s gut.

Alec had been well aware of how uncomfortable the couch was, but he starts to _truly_ appreciate the advantages of the incredibly spacious bed when Magnus grabs both of Alec’s wrists and pins them up over his head, pressing their joined hands into the pillows. Alec feels even _more_ exposed like this, helplessly held in place, still on display even though Magnus is blanketing him with his body. It should feel undignified, but the only thing Alec’s capable of feeling right now is pleasure. Bright, shocking pleasure. By the Angel, it's enough to make him _whine_ into Magnus’s mouth.

He’s not sure how long they stay like that, kissing frantically, pushing and rocking against each other, with Magnus making the most beautiful noises Alec has ever heard. It’s probably not more than a few minutes, but to Alec, they could stay here for _weeks,_ and he wouldn’t even notice. Or care. He’s pretty sure he’d be happy staying like this forever.

Which makes it almost devastating when Magnus finally breaks the kiss. He doesn’t go far, just shifting to kiss Alec’s neck with the same amount of enthusiasm (and tongue). But he has to let go of Alec’s hands, and Alec realizes instantly that he misses being held down. Magnus gets his hands on Alec’s shoulders, pressing them into the mattress, but it’s not quite the same.

Then he pushes himself back, putting actual _distance_ between them for the first time in however many minutes. Alec’s gasping, like a little bit of kissing is somehow more tiring than his morning workout. He would be embarrassed, but…

Magnus is panting too. He’s out of breath, same as Alec. Somehow, it’s like that… puts them on equal terms. That little proof that Magnus is reacting to this the same way Alec is. It’s confusing. It’s practically incomprehensible. That kissing Alec could possibly take Magnus’s breath away. But here it is. Magnus is panting over him, hands gripping his shoulders way too tight, mouth hanging open and kiss-swollen, and eyes-

Shit. His eyes.

They’re flickering. His dark brown irises… flash. Every few seconds, there’s a hint of gold. Glittering, and somehow unfocused.

Alec has seen Magnus’s real eyes before. Not frequently, and not for long, but seeing them isn’t quite a surprise anymore.

But seeing them like _this,_ seeing them up close, seeing the glamour that Magnus always keeps start to slip away… because of _him…_

Alec doesn’t get to see for long, because Magnus ducks down and immediately attaches his lips to Alec’s neck again. His hands stroke slowly down Alec’s sides, just shy of being light enough to tickle. Magnus’s tongue traces sloppy lines across Alec’s throat, which distracts him long enough that it surprises him when he realizes Magnus’s hands are on his chest now.

Magnus lifts his head, and golden cat eyes rake down Alec’s torso. Bright, and sparkling, and… wanting. His fingers graze over Alec’s chest, slow, like he’s savoring it. He presses down harder, like he’s actually _trying_ to feel Alec’s chest hair through his fingers. Over, and over, and over… until Alec honestly doesn’t remember how to breathe. Then Magnus drags the tip of one finger down, following the hair on his chest, down to his stomach-

And when he gets to the patch of hair trailing from Alec’s bellybutton into the waistband of his jeans, Magnus parts his lips with a sigh. A deep, long, _agonizing_ sigh.

Alec doesn’t know what to do with himself. Magnus just keeps touching him, hands and fingers roaming over his skin, running through all of that coarse, awful hair like it isn’t coarse or awful at all. Like it’s… nice. Like he… enjoys it. His amber eyes never waver, they just lock onto Alec’s body with that same hungry expression that makes Alec’s hips jerk up when he holds his gaze too long.

Right when Alec thinks all this attention is going to make him burst into flames, Magnus finally moves. He leans down even further, and plants an open, wet kiss right below Alec’s collarbone. It catches Alec so far off guard that he lets out a much louder groan than he really should. He assumes Magnus’ll come back up to his face soon-

He’s wrong about that. Magnus stays there, lying between Alec’s legs, lavishing his chest and stomach with kisses. Minute after minute. It’s unrelenting, an actual _onslaught_ of affection, with his mouth constantly kissing and licking and _biting_ and his fingers still running through Alec’s chest hair like he’s desperate for it.

And the whole time, he’s making these little noises. Alec is the one essentially being attacked with pleasure, but for some reason, _Magnus_ is the one whimpering and sighing like something out of a really good wet dream.

Alec’s been successfully ignoring the erection straining the front of his jeans for what feels like most of the evening, but it’s suddenly getting har- Alec grits his teeth - it’s getting _more difficult_ to keep his dick out of his mind, since every sound from Magnus’s throat is making it twitch in his boxers. He’d said he doesn’t want to have sex tonight. And he doesn’t. He knows he doesn’t. But he’s never been this turned on in his entire life, not by a long shot. Even if he and Magnus have agreed to take things slow and not go any further tonight, it doesn’t look like Alec’s dick is going to cooperate.

It still feels strange enough just for Alec to be hard like this when there’s actually someone else here with him, someone else who’s aware of it.

(It had happened on their first date too, and Alec had been so goddamn embarrassed that he’d _apologized_ when he’d pressed a little too close to Magnus’s hip, close enough for him to feel it. Magnus had just given a breathless laugh, and brought his lips to Alec’s ear. “Darling, you’re not the only one.” And he’d rocked forward, let Alec feel the hardness tucked in his leather pants, and it had _shattered_ him.)

But just like last time, Magnus isn’t doing anything about it. Yes, with how close their bodies have been pressed, they’ve both gotten a decent amount of friction, but Magnus isn’t actually giving either of their dicks any attention. Because Alec hasn’t asked him to. Hasn’t said he’s alright with that. And while Alec feels more than a little pathetic for his hang-ups, he feels so unspeakably grateful that Magnus is leaving them be.

Right when Alec thinks he might be able to get himself relatively under control, Magnus brings his finger up to Alec’s nipple. He circles it, soft and slow, and it’s such a small touch…

But it’s a touch Alec’s never felt before. A shiver runs down his spine, shooting into his limbs. He opens his mouth, hoping to choke in an adequate breath, but instead his throat decides to let out a loud, high-pitched whine. By the Angel, Mangus is _barely_ touching him. He shouldn’t be making noises like this.

Magnus shifts on the bed, almost like he’s, he can’t be… is he _grinding_ down against the mattress? Alec hooks his legs higher around Magnus’s waist, instinctively trying to pull him in closer. He’s trying, he wants to ask for more, but he doesn’t know how…

Magnus must understand, because he moves his lips over to Alec’s other nipple, and- shit… _shit…_ he _licks_ right over it, again, and again, before sucking it into his mouth.

Alec’s toes curl, which- he didn’t realize that was actually a thing that happened and not just an expression. But his toes are actually curling. It’s too much. He’s never felt anything like this, he didn’t think he could feel pleasure like this and Magnus’s mouth is just so wet and _hot_ and he must be dying this must be what dying feels like-

“Oh- _oh_ fuck! Ah… _Magnus!”_

Magnus makes a noise like nothing Alec’s ever heard. A loud, moaning _cry_ and-

The lamp on the nightstand explodes.

It shocks Alec out of whatever the fuck was just happening to him, because obviously the lamp didn’t really explode, so he turns far enough to see-

The lamp didn’t explode.

Just the bulb did.

Shattered glass is littering the nightstand, and the pieces are giving off these little…

Blue sparks.

Magnus laughs (at least, Alec thinks it was supposed to be a laugh. It sounded more like a groan). “Whoops,” he murmurs, not sounding sorry at all.

So he just…

He just accidentally made a lightbulb _blow up_ because… because of Alec?

“Magnus-”

Nothing detonates this time, but Alec can see a faint blue glow pulse from Magnus’s fingertips. Alec’s never seen his magic this… loose. It’s like he’s completely lost control. The glamour hasn’t returned to his eyes, sparks are starting to drip from his hands, shit has literally _exploded._

And… Alec had something to do with that.

Apparently satisfied that he’s not in danger of damaging any more light fixtures, Magnus returns his attention to Alec. He keeps his mouth against Alec’s nipple, circling it with his tongue and exhaling hot breath and then teasing it lightly with his teeth…

“ _Ah!_ Yeah, Magnus…”

A jolt of magic shoots right into his chest, right where Magnus’s hand is still running through his hair. Alec can feel it sink into his veins and pool in his gut, where heat has already been building.

So, it’s…?

“Magnus?”

Magnus whimpers, and literally _everything_ in Alec’s vision gets a faint tint of blue, just for a moment. Like there’s a filter of magic over his eyes.

That’s… huh. It’s his name. Hearing Alec say his name.

Alec can make Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn, lose control over his magic. Just by saying his name.

It doesn’t make any sense. But it’s… knowing he has… knowing _he_ can do something like that, to Magnus… so easily. Knowing that Magnus is feeling exactly what he’s feeling right now, the same desperation, and heat, and _need._ It’s…

Alec smiles. A cracked, breathless, crooked smile. And because he can’t help himself from exploiting a newfound power like this, he moans. It’s not insincere (since Magnus is still _ravishing_ him with kisses), but he definitely makes it a little louder than it would have been.

“Mmm, yeah, _Maaagnus.”_

It feels ridiculous, and he’s sure it sounds ridiculous, playing up his pleasure for show when he’s still very much learning how to express his pleasure in the first place. It’s silly enough that he can’t quite suppress a little laugh at the end of it.

Magnus looks up at him. His eyes are narrowed, and something about them makes it very clear that he knows what Alec’s doing.

For some reason, that just makes Alec choke on another laugh.

Magnus rolls his eyes. “‘Angelic Blood’ my ass.” He scoots up, so he’s hovering right over Alec’s face again. “You, my dear, are obviously a little _devil.”_

Alec laughs, and Magnus leans in to kiss him. While he’s still laughing. Laughing right into their kisses. He didn’t know he could do that.

These kisses are soft, sometimes lingering, sometimes just little pecks against his lips. It’s slower. Calmer. These kisses certainly aren’t going to make any lamps blow up. But somehow, that’s nice. Magnus shifts, nudging against Alec’s legs until he gets the idea and finally releases Magnus’s waist from the vice-grip of his thighs. Still kissing him, kissing him so gentle and sweet, Magnus settles down against Alec’s side. Alec turns his head to follow his mouth. Their legs slot together. Magnus’s hand stays on Alec’s chest, splayed out right over his heart.

It feels like… winding down. Pulling back from where they’d been so hectic. The pauses between kisses get longer, until it’s just an occasional brush of lips. Until Magnus stops altogether, and waits for Alec to initiate instead.

And he does, a few times. Presses forward just far enough to catch Magnus’s lower lip between his own. Breathes out, touches his tongue to Magnus’s, just enough to taste him.

Then, they’re just breathing. Foreheads touching, noses bumping lightly when they shift to get more comfortable. Magnus’s hand never stops moving, still trailing gently through Alec’s chest hair.

Alec didn’t know this could happen. Five minutes ago, he’d been practically sobbing under Magnus’s mouth and a heartbeat away from coming in his pants. He’d assumed that was what it needed to be. He’d thought that if they’d gotten that far, they didn’t have any option but to go further. Even if he didn’t want to have sex, it had seemed like that wasn’t actually a choice he got to make.

But then things just… calmed down. Quieted. Naturally slowed to a peaceful, _wonderful_ finish. He’s not hard anymore, but he doesn’t feel unsatisfied. He feels more satisfied than he’s ever felt in his damn life. And it was his choice.

Laid out on Magnus’s bed, legs intertwined, breathing together. Cuddling. Alec smiles to himself at that thought. Cuddling with Magnus Bane.

He could fall asleep like this. He could _easily_ fall asleep like this, and sleep through the night, and the morning, and wake up just like this, and never leave. Never leave this bed. Never leave Magnus.

But that’s not how this works.

And, as if on cue, Magnus breaks the long minutes of silence. “Do you have to get going?”

Alec sighs through his nose. “Probably.”

The Institute is waiting. A looming threat that had been in the distance all night but is suddenly very much in the foreground. He’s already been gone longer than he planned. He’s already been gone long enough that he just _knows_ how much shit he’s going to have to put up with from Isabelle and Jace. They know exactly where he is. And he bets they think they know exactly what he’s doing. And he doesn’t want to hear it.

Magnus tilts his face, pressing his lips to the corner of Alec’s mouth. Something about it feels final. Like it’s over now. Like Magnus is getting ready to say goodbye. His hand finally stops moving across Alec’s chest.

And Alec can’t have that. Not yet. “But, um… not… not right now.” He opens his eyes, and shifts his head back so he can really _see_ Magnus. “I can stay. For a little bit longer. If that’s… alright?”

Magnus looks at him. And he smiles. That same little smile that's starting to look familiar. “I think that would be just fine, darling.”

Alec smiles back at him, but he can feel his face heat up at the endearment. He’s still not used to hearing those. “Could you- uh… could you…” he doesn’t know how to say it. Or, doesn’t know if he _can_ say it. So he touches Magnus’s hand, the one resting on his chest, and gives it a little nudge.

Magnus takes the hint with a smirk. “My pleasure.” And Alec thinks he might actually mean that. He starts moving again, his fingers tracing along the shapes of Alec’s runes.

Alec closes his eyes and hums, deep in his throat. It just feels so nice. He didn’t think he could feel this nice.

“Magnus…”

He sees blue sparks behind his closed eyelids.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Whoa.  
> The floor isn’t working right.  
> Why is it like that?"

Alec picks up his glass.

It’s empty.

Bogus.

He sets it back down, after carefully double-checking that there’s really nothing left in it. No point in being wasteful, after all.

He turns back around. Back to the dance floor. He leans against the bar, _definitely_ because it looks cool and aloof, and _not_ because standing upright sounds really fucking horrible right now.

It’s loud in here.

Yeah, it’s _always_ loud in here, but tonight it’s like, extra loud. Stupid loud.

Pandemonium has never been Alec’s favorite place. That’s possibly because he’s usually here on business, and his business trips usually aren’t a lot of fun. Then again, he’s pretty sure he’s actually disliked it even _more_ when he’s been here for purposes other than kicking demon butts.

But if he _has_ to pick a club (which in this case, he does), this is probably the one that Alec hates the least, because he knows it. As long as he doesn’t actually _know_ too many of the people in it, that is. But he and Izzy have a strict agreement about making sure they’re _not_ in the same clubs at the same time, so that’s usually not a problem.

Alec tries to focus on the dance floor, but his eyes are all fuzzy, and there’s too many people out there. He looks back at his empty drink again-

Hey.

It’s full.

_Score._

He picks up the martini glass (which he actually knows how to do _correctly_ now) and takes a sip. It stopped really tasting like anything a little while ago, but it’s still vaguely tasty, so he doesn’t mind.

He takes a gulp. He shouldn’t gulp this. He’s aware of that. But it’s tasty. It’s gulpable.

Alright. Focus.

He looks back out at the dance floor, takes a deep breath, and _focuses._

Fucking _fuck,_ why are there so many fucking people here? Damn wastes of space.

Alec blinks when things get too fuzzy, and forces his way through the dizzying sight. There’s some vampires in a little cluster by the dj. A werewolf girl is spinning between a whole group of mundane dance partners. Hm. Mundane dance partners. Mundane dance. Mundance. Hah. There’s a pair of seelies doing a dance that is _far_ too elegant and intricate for a goddamn club. There’s just _people._ They’re fucking _everywhere_ and it’s just a blur and do they even realize how _rude_ they’re being by blocking Alec’s view like this? And-

Oh.

Oh, fuck. _Shit._ Yes.

The seelie couple duck off of the dance floor, and right behind them… there he is.

Magnus.

_Magnus._

Fuck. Alec can’t breathe. The fuzziness in his head slips down into his chest.

Alec hasn’t caught sight of Magnus in almost… damn… it must be almost ten minutes now.

Ten whole minutes without getting to see him.

It’s been _awful._

Because… because… fuck. Just _looking_ at him. His red leather pants that are so fucking tight they required real, actual, literal _magic_ just to squeeze into them. His black shirt, which is tight around his waist and then just open all the way up, all the way up to his collar bones so you can see his stupid amount of necklaces and so much of his chest, his chest is just _right there,_ that inch or two across that trails all the way down to his stomach. Alec wants to get his mouth on it, wants to lick that strip of bare skin, all the way from his stomach to his neck. Magnus’s hair is probably about as _high_ as Alec has ever seen it, spiky, streaked with red and purple and gold and just so _tall_ it’s like his hair is taller than the rest of his head. His makeup is dark, and intricate, and mostly glitter. And he's got that stubble. The stubble that makes an artistic line around his mouth and chin. It makes him look prickly. Untouchable.

Sexy.

He's sexy. He's so unbearably sexy that Alec feels his nerves start to light up just by looking at him and this isn't even his favorite part. He can't see his favorite part. Magnus is facing the wrong way. Alec can't see, he just needs Magnus to turn the other way godfuckingdammit-

Yes. _Yes._

He's starting to spin. Some sort of twirly move that takes him too far around at first, but then he settles into a new spot and he's turning his head and it’s almost there, he's _almost_ facing the right way…

There.

Yeah.

There it is.

Alec hums into his drink.

On Magnus’s left cheek, just below his eye. A kiss mark. Purple. Dark. Perfectly clear. Like a stamp. A brand made with lipstick.

Alec brushes the tip of his index finger across his lower lip. Feeling the lipstick. The lipstick that's branding Magnus's face. The touch, and the sight, and the awareness of those two things _together_ makes something pulse deep in Alec’s stomach. He's glad he's leaning so heavily against the bar, because his knees aren't working right anymore.

It's only then that Alec looks over far enough to see who Magnus is dancing with. She's young, and pretty, and very, _very_ green. Her hair, dress, makeup, it's all so green that Alec can't even tell if she's a downworlder or just an eccentrically fashionable mundane. She's probably the… third? Fifth? She's one of many people Magnus has been dancing with tonight. Alec still has absolutely _no_ concept of what makes a “skilled” dancer in this sort of environment, but this girl seems to know what she's doing more than Magnus's other partners have. She's a lot closer to him than the others were. It's definitely more… intense.

A year ago, Alec would probably have lost his fucking mind if he saw something like this. It’s not that he’s ever had a problem trusting Magnus, but actually _seeing_ him grind and writhe his way across a dance floor full of strangers used to really fucking test his tolerance. Now, it’s nothing.

No… not ‘nothing’. Because it’s a chance to see Magnus, all dressed up in his sexiest and most _outrageous_ finery, out on a club dance floor where he… by the Angel… he’s sinful. Twisting and bending in movements that are too fluid and _enticing_ to be real. Alec thinks he understands now why so many animals have mating dances. It’s sure as fuck working on him.

The only thing that’s a little strange about it is the fact that it’s something Magnus enjoys. Something Magnus _loves_ doing. And Alec’s not a part of it.

But, of course, that’s completely by choice (Magnus has tried his damndest to get Alec out on the dance floor with him for months and months and _months_ and it’s just never gonna happen), and they both know that they’re happiest in this arrangement. Magnus getting to dance. Alec getting to watch, without having to participate. It’s perfect.

So long as Magnus has that kiss mark.

Alec’s kiss.

Right there, on his face.

It makes it easy to watch Magnus rotate through dozens of strangers whenever they go out to clubs. Magnus likes going out. Alec… well, he doesn’t like _being_ at clubs, but he definitely loves getting to plant himself at the bar and watch Magnus. And Magnus _loves_ taking Alec out. He loves getting to show Alec off, to be in a room full of glamorous people and get to say ‘This one, this one right here, I’ve chosen this one’.

Alec takes another gulp of his drink. Somehow, it’s already almost gone. That can’t be right. How’d that happen?

Magnus’s dancing kinda… stagnates. He says something to the girl. Alec tries to hear it, even though the fucking music is so fucking loud that he’s getting a headache. Then Magnus starts looking around, like he’s disoriented. He visibly perks up when he catches sight of the bar.

Yes.

Magnus starts looking down the row of stools.

Yes yes yes.

Magnus sees Alec.

_Fuck_ yes.

Magnus smiles. Alec’s little smile.

And he starts to walk toward him.

Yes yes yes yesyesyesyes _yes-_

Fuck. How is he so beautiful? How can any one person be so fucking beautiful? It’s like… fuck. Leave some attractiveness for everyone else. Goddamn.

It’s been well over a year and a half. It’s getting close to _two_ years. Two whole years. And in all that time, Alec still hasn’t built up a tolerance to the sight of Magnus Bane. One second of eye contact and Alec has literally lost his fucking breath. He’s just so beautiful. He’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and Alec loves him. He loves him so much it’s making his heart race just to think about it.

And he’s walking toward Alec.

_Yes._

He needs to walk faster. He’s too far away. Alec needs him, he _needs_ him right this fucking second. Magnus is taking too fucking long and it’s _torture_ so Alec just has no choice but to take matters into his own hands. He pushes himself away from the bar and-

Whoa.

The floor isn’t working right.

Why is it like that?

Alec’s body tries to convince him to sit down and make the room stop throbbing with the beat of the music. But Magnus is only a few feet away from him and _fuck_ if Alec doesn’t get his mouth on him this instant he knows he’s going to die.

Alec stumbles forward with the force of pure determination. A few people try to get in his way but he just stumbles right through them and Magnus is _smiling_ at him and - yes, _yes_ \- he’s only a few inches away now-

They meet right at the edge of the dance floor and Alec cups one hand around the back of Magnus’s neck and gets his other hand firmly gripping Magnus’s ass and he immediately ducks his head and attaches his mouth to Magnus’s throat.

Fuck.

By the Angel.

_Fuck._

Magnus is covered in sweat, a thin sheen that he’s worked up from the past few hours of dancing. And that’s bogus. If Magnus is going to sweat, Alec wants to be directly responsible for it.

However, he’s certainly not complaining, not when he gets to lick the sweat right off Magnus’s skin. He flattens his tongue against Magnus’s pulse point and tastes him, just tastes the tang of his sweat and whatever’s left of his cologne-

And somehow tasting Magnus’s skin turns into sucking against it, until he’s sure there’s gotta be a truly _epic_ hickey under his mouth.

Magnus moans. Alec can _feel_ it vibrate against his lips, and fucking hell he’s never felt blood rush to his dick this fast.

“Alexander…”

Oh _shit._ Alec whimpers against Magnus’s neck. Because nothing could ever possibly sound anywhere near as sexy as Magnus whining out his name over the loud beat of the music.

He needs more. He must have sucked at least three bruises onto Magnus’s neck by now but that’s still not _enough-_

“Alexander,” Magnus says again, but more serious and less moan-y.

Alec’s afraid something’s gone wrong, so he forces himself up and away from Magnus’s throat. “Hm?”

There’s one bead of sweat gathering at Magnus’s temple. It’s starting to slip down the side of his face, the same side of his face that has Alec’s kiss on it, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint Alec has to keep himself from leaning back in and licking it off. Magnus just tastes so _good_ doesn’t he understand that?

Magnus’s eyes are flickering. Not changed, not yet. The glamour is still there. But it’s getting weaker. Alec sees one clear flash of gold, and by the Angel, it sends a matching flash of heat right to his gut. He wants to make the glamour break. He wants to break it, break the entire hold Magnus has on his magic, wants to make his cat eyes come out and blue sparks fall from his fingers and _fuck_ maybe Alec could make him accidentally teleport the entire club halfway across town there’s just so many possibilities-

“Alexander-” Magnus says firmly this time, and he reaches out to grab both of Alec’s shoulders. Really tightly. Why’s he-

Oh.

Apparently Alec was almost falling over. Magnus is steadying him. That’s nice of him. He’s so nice-

“Alexander, how much have you had to drink?”

Well, that’s not the type of ‘hello’ Alec was expecting. Magnus sounds almost kinda _stern_ with him. Like he _hadn’t_ left Alec right next to a _bar_ two hours ago and said “Have fun, angel.”

But… huh. Now that he thinks about it…

“Dunno.”

Magnus furrows his eyebrows. It’s _adorable._ “Alright, _what_ have you been drinking?”

Why can he hear him so well? It’s so fucking loud in here, but Magnus isn’t even raising his voice and Alec can hear him clearly. He must be doing something. Some magic thing. It’s very considerate. Alec doesn’t wanna be shouting, especially not when they’re finally so close together.

“Alec?”

Alec laughs. Which is weird, since nothing is funny. “Dunno.” He points back toward the bar, trying to find the bartender he’s been dealing with. “She asked what I wanted. I said I didn’t have my wallet. She said it doesn’t matter ‘cause I’m on ‘the Bane tab’,” Alec starts laughing again, because that actually _is_ funny because it’s so goddamn fancy it’s _hilarious._ “And she gave me something that tastes like really good mangoes. And she said she’d ‘keep ‘em coming’. And she did.” He smiles. “I’ve had a lot of mangoes.”

Magnus looks a little… bewildered? That’s not usual for him. “Darling, I think you’ve had a lot of _vodka._ I doubt many mangoes were really involved.”

Alec’s still sorta laughing, little spluttery laughs. The hand he has on Magnus’s neck slips down, so it joins his other hand on Magnus’s ass. He pulls Magnus in closer, trying to get a _really_ good squeeze, but it feels like he’s just getting fistfulls of leather and no ass at all which is just not fair. “Why’d you come back over here?” He smirks, tilting his face down so he can bump his nose against Magnus’s. “Were you missing me?”

Magnus laughs and rests his hands on Alec’s chest. He still sounds a little surprised. “Always, sweetheart.” His fingers trail along the open collar of Alec’s shirt, dipping onto his chest and skimming down past the first three buttons (which Alec left undone tonight). “Besides, that young woman was getting far too handsy. One can only say ‘look, don’t touch’ so many times before the dancing is no longer worth one’s effort.”

Alec tilts his head further. “Aww, you mean _this,”_ he carefully presses his lips to his own kiss mark on Magnus’s cheek, “wasn’t doing its job?”

Magnus hums, and moves his arms up to wrap around Alec’s neck, which- oh. Alec’s starting to tip backwards again. Magnus makes him tip forward instead, so Alec’s pressing against him and he’s less likely to fall over. “I suppose not,” Magnus pouts dramatically, “I think it makes me look sufficiently unavailable, but it may be too subtle for some people.” He turns his face, offering his other cheek with a _precious_ little smirk. “Maybe if you mark the other side as well?”

And it’s just too much, everything is rushing to Alec’s head and swirling around his chest and dropping down to his gut and pooling significantly _lower_ than his gut and he just can’t take it anymore. So he pulls Magnus against him even harder, using his grip on Magnus’s ass to really grind their hips together. He brushes his nose against the side of Magnus’s face, and brings his lips to his ear. “Better idea: what if I bent you over the bar and fucked you right here, in front of everyone? Think that’d get the point across?”

Magnus jerks in his arms, and that’s sure a nice feeling. He exhales sharply against Alec’s neck, and it’s hot and a little damp and it’s _amazing._ “Alexander…” He sounds startled. Surprised. But he _definitely_ doesn’t sound like he’s opposed to the idea.

It makes Alec moan, right into Magnus’s ear. He slides his hands up to the small of Magnus’s back and digs in his fingers, because magic pants be _damned,_ Alec is going to get his hands inside them if it’s the last thing he does. He pushes down, and manages to slip one hand into the impossibly tight leather. The lack of underwear lets him touch Magnus’s bare ass and Alec moans again because of just how badly he wants to get his _teeth_ into it.

His dick is getting more insistent every second and Magnus is finally _right here_ and he’s so gorgeous and already sweating and Alec’s never needed anything this bad before. He needs it so bad he can’t breathe, he’s gasping and groaning against Magnus’s cheek.

“Please, Magnus, _please-_ ” He presses forward and holds Magnus still so he can feel how hard Alec is for him, so he can understand just how much Alec _means_ this. “Wanna fuck you, Mags, I wanna fuck you so bad.” He presses his open mouth to Magnus’s temple, trailing ridiculously sloppy kisses down to his jaw and up behind his ear.

Magnus gasps, actually _gasps_ and tilts his head back, which is… yeah. That’s good. It gives Alec more room, lets him get Magnus’s earlobe between his teeth, tasting the metallic sting of three different earrings. Alec gets rid of the taste of metal by running his tongue along the shell of Magnus’s ear, then slowly licking all the way inside. Magnus whimpers and clutches at Alec’s shoulder with one hand, the other slipping down to fist in the fabric of his shirt.

“Yeah,” Alec whispers into his ear, grinding forward again to encourage him. “Yeah, c’mon Mags, let me fuck you. I’ll make it so good, I’ll be _so_ good for you, I promise.” The hand that isn’t down Magnus’s pants starts running across his back, roaming and pulling and scratching until he’s almost _clawing_ at him with the need to get closer. “I’m wearing that thong, the purple one, I know how much you love it. I could show it off.” He whines a little as he struggles to catch his breath, because he can’t stop talking he just _can’t,_ not until Magnus _gets_ it. “I’ll be so good. You’ll _love_ it. I’ll lick you open, get you wet for me, make you wanna _beg_ for it. I’ll fuck you so good, make you come _so hard_ babe, I swear…”

Huh. He’s never called Magnus ‘babe’ before. But at the moment it feels _right_ and it’s not like he’s got much control over what his mouth is spewing anyway and Magnus is still clutching at him and moaning out into the noise of the club so Alec’s pretty sure he doesn't have a problem with the new pet name.

Alec feels heat prickle against the sliver of his chest that’s bared. Which makes him finally pull his mouth away from Magnus’s ear, so he can verify that… yes. _Yes._ Blue sparks are shooting out of Magnus’s fingers, hitting Alec’s skin with audibly powerful _cracks_ before disappearing into his chest, sending warmth into his already overheated blood.

He just can’t stop thinking about it. Picturing it. Imagining it. How _good_ it is to fuck Magnus. The way his back arches when Alec first pushes into him. The way he groans and sighs, like it’s a relief, like finally having Alec inside him again fixes something that’s been broken. The way his thighs tense and tremble when he’s about to come, the way his voice gets higher and breathier, the way he cries out Alec’s name right when it hits him-

“Please, Magnus, please please _please-”_

“Alexander!”

Oh.

That was…

That wasn’t good.

That wasn’t an ‘I’m going to let my boyfriend fuck me over the bar’ tone of voice.

That was a ‘My boyfriend and I are about to have a serious talk’ tone of voice.

Also… it’s the tone of voice he uses when he’s been trying to get his attention, and Alec hasn’t been listening. Has he been saying things this whole time? Whoops.

Alec forces himself to pull away, even going as far as to slip his hand out of Magnus’s pants. He immediately feels cold, and disappointed. Any distance is too much distance right now. But he’s not going to ignore Magnus using an unhappy voice. He’s gotta find out why he’s unhappy, so he can fix it. “What is it?”

Magnus looks…

Well, shit. He certainly doesn’t _look_ unhappy. He looks just about as desperate as Alec feels. The glamour is completely gone from his eyes, and his gold irises are practically _glowing_ in the dim light of the club. He has his lower lip tucked between his teeth, like he’s trying to hold something in. And he’s flushed, and panting. Completely out of breath. Alec risks a quick glance down and, yeah, the front of his pants certainly don't make it seem like he’s uninterested.

So… what the fuck?

“What’s wrong?” Alec asks again, since he really, _really_ has no clue.

Magnus raises his eyebrows. “What’s _wrong,_ darling, is that you are spectacularly drunk.”

That’s-

Wh-

Huh.

He supposes that’s true. He hasn’t really been thinking about it much tonight. But… yeah. Shit. He’s pretty damn drunk.

This realization makes him laugh. Hard. Stupid little giggles that force him to lean his forehead against Magnus’s just to keep himself from stumbling forward. He certainly doesn’t see a problem here. “And…?”

Magnus cups a hand against Alec’s cheek, nudging him far enough away to hold his gaze. “And it would hardly be acceptable for me to take advantage of you in this state. You aren't in your right mind, sweetheart.”

Alec snorts. “Yeah, ‘cause I _neeeever_ wanna fuck you when I’m sober.” He tilts his face to catch Magnus’s mouth with his own.

His movements must really be hindered by the whole ‘drunk’ thing, because Magnus easily dodges the kiss. “Not in _public,_ no. As I recall, you still won’t even have sex in our own living room if the curtains are open.”

“This is different-”

“Because you are drunk, Alexander. I’m not going to let you do anything you’ll regret in the morning.” He smirks. “However, I’m pretty sure you’ve already guaranteed yourself a hangover that will make you regret this entire evening.”

Alec wants to laugh, but he’s still too upset that Magnus is being so goddamn reasonable. It’s infuriating. “Then take us home. Please, Magnus, I _need_ you-”

Magnus actually _laughs_ at him, which is just… _cruel._ Alec didn’t think Magnus could be so mean. “Alexander, I am not going to portal us home just because you can’t keep it in your pants for another half hour. You are a grown man. I’m sure you have _some_ self-control.”

Alec grimaces. This is entirely unfair. This is horrible. This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to him.

Magnus sees his face and just laughs at him _again._ “I leave you alone for less than two hours and _this_ is what happens?” He brushes his thumb across Alec’s cheek, which… fuck. Alec still wants to be mad at him, but he _really_ likes when Magnus touches him like this. “I always assumed that if you ever got more than three drinks in you, you’d either be passed out in a corner, or trying to start a fight with an inanimate object. But who would have ever thought that Alexander Lightwood is a _horny_ drunk?”

Alec makes a sound that’s kinda laughing, kinda scoffing. Because that _is_ a funny idea. But it’s also _insulting._ He doesn’t want Magnus right now because he’s been drinking. He wants Magnus because Magnus is so impossibly beautiful and Alec loves him so much and he doesn’t know how else he can make Magnus _understand_ that. If he could just fuck him, if Alec could take Magnus right now and fuck him better than he’s ever fucked him before, right here, where everyone could see it, he knows Magnus would understand what this really is. That this has nothing to do with alcohol. That this is about how much Alec loves him. He loves him and he wants everyone to know how _much_ he loves him. Only him. No one else. Always.

But he doesn’t know how else to let Magnus know that, to let everyone else know that. Not if he isn’t allowed to fuck him, and why can’t Magnus understand how much he _needs_ to fuck him right now?

His hand is on Magnus’s ass again, trying to slip back into his pants to touch his skin. But Magnus apparently isn’t having any of it, because he reaches back to grab Alec’s hand, and pushes it higher up on his back. To a much more chaste position. “I’m serious, Alexander.” But even though he says that, he’s smiling. He’s smiling Alec’s smile. Alec _loves_ that smile. His heart does a weird floppy thing just seeing it. “Believe me, I am _incredibly_ receptive to your suggestion, but I have to insist that you control yourself until we have a bit more privacy.” He puts on a Stern Face, like he’s being _really_ serious now, but there’s something silly about it too. “No funny business on the dance floor.”

Alec whines. An inarticulate, petulant whine. Like a goddamn toddler.

And Magnus just laughs at him. Why does he keep doing that? “I’m sure you’ll survive, darling.” He loops an arm around Alec’s waist and starts guiding him back toward the bar. “Now, I’m in desperate need of a drink, and apparently I’m about a dozen behind, which certainly isn’t fair.”

Alec wants to snap back at him, because there’s definitely _something_ unfair about this situation, and it sure as fuck isn’t _that._ But moving this much is making the room go wobbly again, and it takes all of his focus just to get himself successfully seated on a bar stool.

His empty drink is nowhere to be seen. He’s not sure if the bartender didn’t think he was coming back, or if he’s been cut off (does that really happen? Can he really be drunk enough for an alcohol professional to say ‘no more’?). Either way, it’s a disappointment. He glances over to Magnus to-

Magnus has a drink in his hand. A thick, fancy glass, filled halfway with amber liquid.

There’s literally no way that he had time to order a drink, much less already have it in his hand. Alec narrows his eyes.

Magnus shrugs, and takes a delicate sip. “I’ll pay for it. Eventually.” He smirks, and cozies himself up against the bar.

He’s standing next to Alec, close enough that they’re pressed together in a few places. Alec’s still a little annoyed about being at the bar for any reason _other_ than fucking, but… still… he can’t deny that the few sparks of Magnus’s heat against his side feel really, _really_ good.

“So,” Magnus starts again once he’s calmly sipped down half of his whiskey, “apart from drinking the entire top shelf, what have you been up to tonight?”

“Enjoying the view,” Alec says with what he can only assume is a pretty dopey grin. It feels pretty dopey.

Magnus laughs, quiet and surprised, which just makes Alec grin _harder_ because he did that. He made Magnus laugh. Four hundred years of laughing at stuff and still, Alec can find things that surprise him enough to make him laugh. Isn’t that something?

Magnus sets down his glass and leans his elbow on the bar. He reaches out his other hand and - mmm, _yeah_ \- brushes his fingers through the hair at the nape of Alec’s neck. “And I’m sure you’ve been fighting off proposals and advances from hopeful paramours left and right?”

“Psh, _no.”_ Alec scoffs, feeling a flash of righteous indignation. “Of _course_ not. Look at me. Look at…” he waves a hand around the general area of his face. “People don’t come up to me. They take one look at all _this_ and go ‘That guy, _that_ guy, he’s obviously not here alone. ‘S no way _he’s_ single. He’s gotta - looking like _that_ \- he’s gotta be here with someone like. Someone like Magnus Bane.’ That’s what they’re _all_ saying,” Alec tilts his head out to the rest of the club to indicate that he really means _everyone._

Magnus’s mouth drops open, like he’s gonna say something, but he… doesn’t. His eyes are a little wide. He lets out a little chuckle. A _stunned_ chuckle, like he can’t believe what he just heard.

Which is dumb, because everything Alec said is fucking _true_ and Magnus should goddamn know that by now.

Magnus’s fingers keep scratching lightly through Alec’s hair and it feels so _goddamn amazing._ And Magnus is smiling. Wide and still a little bit startled. “Are you saying you’re too _intimidating_ for anyone to flirt with you?”

Alec giggles and tilts his head further into Magnus’s touch. “Kinda.” He moves his head a little too far, and the room spins so fast it makes his stomach lurch. He focuses back on Magnus to make everything stay in place. “They’re intimidated by how pretty I am.”

“You-” Magnus sort of chokes out, but he doesn’t finish. He just keeps looking all confused, like a fish flopping around out of water. But he’s stepping in closer to Alec, and his other hand wraps around Alec’s waist, and he looks _happy,_ and all Alec wants to do for the rest of his life is keep making Magnus look like that.

“What…” Magnus starts again, like he’s trying really hard to pick words, “What intimidates them so much? What do they see that makes them _know_ you’re too pretty for them?”

Alec laughs a little bit, like a gurgle under his breath. Because it’s a funny question. “I mean, _all_ of it, really.” He nudges his knee against Magnus’s leg, trying to encourage him to step in between Alec’s thighs. “Like… look. Look at this.” He glances down at himself, not wanting to move far enough away to make any gestures. He laughs again as his brain starts catching up to the question, giving him too many answers all at once. “Look at my eyes, _look.”_ He widens his eyes and leans in to make sure Magnus can really see them. “What color is that? What do you call that color? You can’t. You can’t call it anything, there’s no _name_ for it, ‘cause there’s like, _twelve_ colors in there, at least. And, _and-_ ” he raises his eyebrows and closes his eyes, “look at _that,_ look at that smokey eye.” He opens his eyes again to make sure Magnus is looking. “That’s like, professional shit right there.” It totally is. Alec is _fantastic_ at smokey eyes now. He used his best palette, the one Magnus got him for his last birthday, the one that he’s pretty sure cost more than a… a… really expensive thing (even though Magnus has assured him multiple times that the shimmer is _not_ caused by crushed-up diamonds, like Alec suspects). His eyeliner is _perfect,_ and he’s even wearing a pair of fake eyelashes. His eyes are _unbelievable_ right now. Perfect. Gorgeous.

Magnus is giggling, and running his hands across Alec’s neck and waist, and scooting in right between Alec’s thighs, _exactly_ where Alec wants him to be. It would be annoying that Magnus is _laughing_ while Alec is saying all this, but he’s nodding too, like he agrees, so his laughter just seems… cute. Fucking adorable. “What else?”

Alec grins. This is fun. “Bone structure. Yeah. Look.” He tilts his face a bit in a bunch of directions to show it off. “Fantastic. I don’t even _need_ to contour any of this. But I do anyway. Because I can.” He rests his hands on Magnus’s shoulders, letting them wander up toward his neck. He just needs to make sure he stays this close. Because it’s nice. It’s really nice. “And this lipstick is like… super beautiful. And it goes _great_ with this shirt,” he nods down to his button-up, which is the _exact_ same shade of deep purple as his lipstick. He drums his fingers lightly on Magnus’s collarbones, and glances down at his nails. They’re silver. And glittery. With a little love rune painted on each one. “It’s like… everything. I’m just, like, _stupidly_ pretty.” He looks back up at Magnus…

Magnus isn’t laughing anymore. But he’s still got his little Alec smile. And he looks… he’s just… he’s looking at Alec. So… intensely. The last time he looked at Alec like this, it had been right before he’d asked Alec to move in with him. His glamour hasn’t come back yet, and his gold eyes are… burning. In a warm way. Even though he isn’t saying anything, Alec can _hear_ it, way in the back of his mind, he can hear Magnus’s voice saying how much he loves him. It makes his gut twist up, and it’s too good, it’s too much, he has to kiss him, he has to kiss Magnus _right now-_

He almost slips off the stool, losing his balance and catching himself on the bar at the last second. It breaks the moment, because Alec is laughing, and that makes Magnus laugh, and that makes Alec laugh _harder._

“Here, darling,” Magnus says gently, helping him sit upright. He keeps his hand where it’s been on the back of Alec’s head, but it feels… different now, feels somehow…

Oh. There’s a warm, soothing pulse. It hits right at the base of his skull, and spreads through his body, timed with the beats of his heart. It’s _wonderful._

“What’s that?” Alec mumbles.

“Just taking the edge off all this alcohol. It should leave most of the warm fuzzies, but reduce your chances of falling down and hurting yourself.”

Alec laughs again. Because that’s so nice of him. He feels another wave course through him. “Mmm, you’re… you’re really good. At that magic stuff.”

Magnus smirks. “Enjoy it while you can. I’m not going to do a damn thing to help with your hangover tomorrow.”

Alec frowns. That’s less nice.

But he does feel significantly more… stable. He twists his head around a bit, and no matter how fast he moves, the room doesn’t start spinning at all. He stands up, just to test it, and yeah. His chest is still warm and his head is still sleepy, but his body feels perfectly fine. “Thanks.”

Magnus just keeps smiling at him, hand still on his neck. “Well, I can’t let the most beautiful man in the club stumble around and drunkenly ruin his intimidating good looks, can I?”

“Psh,” Alec shoves lightly at Magnus’s hip. “‘S’not me. Not the 'most'. That’s a tie.”

“A tie?” Magnus repeats, sounding absolutely _delighted._

Alec nods gravely. “That’s how they know. That’s how everybody figures it out. ‘Cause, they see me, right, and they go ‘That’s the prettiest person I’ve ever seen!’ But then they look out on the dance floor and they see _you_ and they go _'T_ _hat’s_ the prettiest person I’ve ever seen!’ And then it’s like ‘Ohhhhh they must be together’ because it just makes _sense.”_ He leans in, trying to get Magnus even closer to him. “It’s basic logic. We’re the two most beautiful fuckers in this whole place, so obviously we’re-” he cuts himself off with a snort-laugh because he accidentally set himself up for a joke - “fucking.” He breaks into giggles, and ducks in to smush his face against Magnus’s neck.

Magnus is laughing too, and rubbing Alec’s back, and it’s so nice everything is so nice Alec feels like he could just… dissolve. Dissolve into a puddle of niceness.

They stay like that for a lot longer than they probably should. Alec half-sitting on a stool, crumpled against Magnus’s shoulder, with Magnus giving him the most successful hug he can in the awkward position. After a minute, Alec can feel Magnus press kisses to his hair. He hums, because that’s nice, too.

“Love you, Mags,” Alec mumbles into Magnus’s shirt.

Magnus makes a soft sound. “I love you too, my darling.”

Alec smiles. And slowly, _slowly_ starts to bring his hands around Magnus’s back again. Because Magnus didn’t let him last time, and he doesn’t want to get caught again. Magnus doesn’t say anything, so Alec carefully starts to slip one hand down to Magnus’s ass-

Magnus pulls away from him.

Shit. Fuck. Shitfuck.

“Alexander, we were having such a nice moment,” Magnus scolds with a lopsided grin.

“Which is why I was _nicely_ trying to touch your butt,” Alec defends.

Magnus laughs, loud and deep, and Alec _loves_ the sound of it, loves making him laugh like that, loves him so much.

But then Magnus starts to move away, and that’s definitely the worst thing anyone has ever done in the history of the world. “Are you going to go dance some more?” Alec asks, and tries to keep his absolute _devastation_ out of his voice.

Magnus purses his lips, like he’s considering his answer. “I suppose I _could._ But I recently received a much more… exciting offer from a certain gorgeous shadowhunter.”

Alec’s heart skips a beat, and he lurches forward a bit. Because that… that would… that… “But you said-”

“I said no funny business on the dance floor.” He smirks. “I didn’t say anything about the bathrooms.”

Alec almost falls off the stool in his haste to stand up. This has to be a joke…

Magnus raises an eyebrow. And that’s… that’s what he always does. That’s his little way, his little flirty way of challenging Alec. A little ‘I dare you’.

The room starts spinning again, and it has nothing to do with alcohol.

Alec dives in. He gets his arms around Magnus’s waist and scoops him right off the floor. Magnus gives a startled laugh. And he just keeps laughing, bright and happy, as Alec hauls him off to the nearest bathroom.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, when you guys say 'Alec gets drunk and horny', I hear 'Alec gets so wasted that he forgets to hate himself'. Whoops.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Am I still a virgin?”  
> Magnus chokes on his whiskey.

“Am I still a virgin?”

Magnus chokes on his whiskey.

Which Alec supposes is a fair reaction, since the last thing Magnus had said was ‘Do you want something to drink?’

But it’s been gnawing at Alec’s brain for a few days now, and the gnawing has been getting more and more persistent, and apparently it’s finally gnawed away the last of Alec’s restraint, since he blurted out the question without even thinking about it. If he _had_ been thinking about it, he’d probably have chosen a better setting for this conversation. Probably.

They’ve just finished dinner. Magnus is wandering around the loft, gravitating toward the mini bar, but never really stopping in one place. And Alec is in the kitchen, hunched over the sink, washing the dishes. He always washes the dishes right after dinner. All of them. By hand. And then he always wipes down the counters, and the table. After three months of dates, Magnus has _finally_ stopped fighting him on this by magicking away the mess before Alec can get to it. Because Alec likes doing it. He actually kinda… loves it. He loves doing things around the loft. Little chores. Always by hand. Putting in the effort. Because, from what he can guess, Magnus probably hasn’t had many people put in effort for him. For hundreds of years now, Alec’s pretty sure Magnus has been used to doing everything. Waving away any problem or obstacle or task with a few blue sparks. And that’s fine, and Alec knows it isn’t a hassle for him. But… he thinks, he _hopes,_ that it might be nice for Magnus to have someone want to do things for him. Even if it’s less convenient than using his magic. He hopes Magnus appreciates that Alec _wants_ to make an effort for him. Wants Magnus to see Alec _do_ things for him. Wants Magnus to understand that Alec thinks he’s worth it. Worth the effort. He’s not sure if Magnus has ever had that before.

And now, focusing on washing off the last dirty fork must have distracted his brain just enough to turn off his filter. Because this really isn’t the right time to be talking about virginity. Alec can’t believe he even got that _word_ out of his mouth without blushing.

“S-sorry,” he sputters, rinsing off the fork and setting it on the towel with the rest of the clean dishes. “Forget I… said. Anything.” He reaches for the next dish, desperate for something to do with his hands to break the awkwardness… but there aren’t any dishes left. He grabs a soapy washcloth instead, and starts to scrub the counter.

Now he just has to hope that Magnus _actually_ forgets that he said anything, and they can both pretend this never happened-

“Alexander.”

Fuck.

Magnus is in the kitchen now, leaning against the stove, drink still in his hand. Alec glances at him over his shoulder, and- yeah. That’s his ‘Serious Talk’ face. Shit. Why can he read Alec so well? It’s only been three months. It’s not fair.

“What makes you ask?” And, damn. That phrasing means Magnus can _tell_ that Alec didn’t just start thinking about this on a whim. He can tell it’s important.

Alec needs to work on his poker face.

But the conversation’s started now. And when Magnus finds out something is bothering Alec, he becomes an unstoppable juggernaut until he’s helped Alec work through it. He’s so fucking _considerate_ like that. Alec’s only option is surrender.

So he sighs, still idly pushing the washcloth around the edge of the sink. He keeps his gaze down, back turned, keeping his focus as far away from Magnus as possible. “It was… a couple days ago. Jace was already awake when I got back to the Institute, and I don’t think he knew that I stay here overnight sometimes, and he just…” Alec breathes in slowly. “He made some dumb jokes. It was stupid. He was just joking, I _know_ he was just joking, but he kept talking about ‘Virgin Shadowhunter Energy’ and-”

Magnus makes a sound. A little… gurgle. Like he’s choked on his drink again. Alec looks over his shoulder again to make sure he’s alright-

Magnus averts his gaze as soon as Alec turns. He looks down at his glass almost… sort of… he can’t be… embarrassed? Magnus Bane doesn’t get embarrassed. But this must be the Magnus Bane equivalent of embarrassment.

And obviously Alec doesn’t know what the fuck to do with _that,_ so he turns back to the sink. “And I just… it didn’t… the word just kinda- stuck. I don’t…”

He doesn’t know what to think. He’d never even considered it until Jace brought it up. And he doesn’t know why it’s suddenly important. But hearing Jace joke about it, hearing Jace say bullshit about ‘popped cherries’ (which is probably the most _horrific_ euphemism Alec has ever heard, because nothing about _that_ sounds like it could be enjoyable for anyone), it was… and even though he _knows_ Jace was just teasing him…

It put the idea in Alec’s head. The word. The term. Whether or not the term applied to him.

And he didn’t know.

He doesn’t know.

It’s not like he and Magnus haven’t done anything. They’ve done… Alec’s face heats up… they’ve done _plenty._ Hell, Alec had barely been here for fifteen minutes tonight before he was on his knees with Magnus’s cock in his mouth - and just thinking about _that_ makes him grip the washcloth so tight that water squeezes out and drips onto the floor. Yeah, Alec definitely wouldn’t consider himself ‘inexperienced’ anymore.

But, that being said, they still haven’t done everything. They haven’t… what Alec’s mind first goes to when he thinks about ‘sex’, they haven’t done that. Alec just hasn’t… wanted to yet. He still thinks he will, at some point. He thinks about it every now and then. He _wants_ it every now and then. At least once a week, he’ll think that their next date will be the one where it’ll be too much and he’ll finally ask for it, but then he’s in bed with Magnus and everything _else_ is happening and he can’t imagine wanting more than he’s already getting so the desire just kind of… goes away. Fizzles out. Even the few times that he’s had - by the Angel - he’s had Magnus’s fingers, in… _inside_ him, it had been enough. More than enough. It had been such an incredible feeling that Alec had no interest in having anything more.

And Magnus hasn’t been pushing him for it. Obviously. Magnus has never pushed him for _anything._ Magnus has made it clear, every single day they’ve been together, that it’s up to Alec. That he wouldn’t mind if they never did any of it. And Alec loves that. He loves how easy it all is, he loves that Magnus makes it all so easy, loves that Magnus doesn’t mind being with someone who still hasn’t wanted to have sex with him even though they’ve been together for _months-_

Except… maybe that’s not right? Maybe they have had sex, because maybe Alec has been thinking about it wrong, and he doesn’t know, and how _stupid_ does he have to be to not even know if he’s a goddamn virgin or not? He’s just too fucking stupid-

Magnus makes a little sound. Like he’s thinking. It pulls Alec out of his thoughts, but he still can’t make himself turn around. He just keeps running the washcloth over the same spot on the edge of the sink. Not doing anything.

“Well…” Magnus says, in that one tone of voice, the one that’s light and casual, but in a way that lets Alec know he’s taking what he says seriously, “I suppose that depends on your definition of ‘virginity’.”

Alec frowns down at the counter. Because that’s not… that’s not something he can just, _do,_ is it? ‘His’ definition? Like it’s different than anyone else’s? The word’s already been defined. It has nothing to do with what _Alec_ thinks about it. “It’s wh… it’s whether or not you’ve had sex.” He says it as simply as he can, because it’s obvious, and it’s not an opinion, and he’s _not_ going to blush just because he said it outloud.

Magnus makes that same noise. That same thinking noise. But it’s a little… longer. He draws it out. Alec still can’t bring himself to _look_ at him, but it sounds like he’s… smiling a little? “In that case, I suppose it depends-”

Alec chokes on a sudden laugh, because he can hear it, he can hear Magnus’s answer before he says it-

“-on your definition of ‘sex’.”

Alec can definitely hear the smile this time, the smile Magnus gets when he knows that he and Alec are on the same page. When Alec finally catches up to him. A wry, understanding smile.

But that’s still…

That still doesn’t make sense.

“It’s… it’s _sex,”_ Alec says as firmly as he can while he can feel his cheeks burning. “You can’t just- you, you don’t get to…” His jaw tenses, and he can feel his throat work to form more words, even though he doesn’t have any. Because it should be obvious, and he doesn’t know how to explain it, and it’s so fucking _frustrating._ “It’s already… it doesn’t matter what I _think,_ it’s already…” he breathes out sharply through his nose.

“Alright.” He can hear the little _clack_ of Magnus’s glass being set on the stove. He still sounds so calm. So reasonable. Alec doesn’t understand how it can be so calming and infuriating at the same time. “Have we had sex?”

Alec regrets saying anything. He regrets bringing it up. He regrets every word he’s ever said in his entire damn life.

His first impulse is to say no, because they haven’t. Because there’s something that he’s known his entire life as ‘sex’, a simple and unambiguous concept that doesn’t leave room for interpretation. Even when he’d started understanding that the only interest he had in sex was with a man and not a woman, there was still a solid definition of the word. It’s a simple definition. A simple thing. And they haven’t done it.

But then… he thinks about being with Magnus. All the ways they’ve been together, all the things they _have_ done. He thinks about being pressed together, being wrapped around each other, under the sheets, naked (though that’s something Alec’s only _recently_ been able to handle, and it’s still only when he’s hidden by the covers and can’t really be seen), feeling nothing but bare skin and sweat. Rutting against each other, clutching and gasping and stroking. He thinks about how it feels to have his orgasm start to hit while Magnus is still kissing him, having to cry out right against Magnus’s lips, and Magnus just kissing him _deeper_ because of it. So many times now, he’s been tangled up in silk sheets, covered in sweat and his own come and _Magnus’s_ come, struggling for air, hearing Magnus right next to him, moaning with every breath. He’s gotten to hear every whimper and whine and cry and filthy whisper Magnus has made, gotten to see Magnus lie between his legs and take Alec’s cock into his mouth like it’s an _honor_ to get to do it, gotten to feel Magnus slowly press slick fingers inside him… Alec’s gotten to hear and see and feel so much that he doesn’t deserve. Magnus just gives and gives and _gives_ and Alec doesn’t deserve any of it, doesn’t deserve to know what sounds Magnus makes when he comes, to see what Magnus looks like _kneeling_ at Alec’s feet, to feel Magnus’s mouth tighten around his cock when he comes down his throat. Alec’s been given so much pleasure he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to _do_ with all of it, and…

And if that's not what sex is supposed to be, then Alec has no interest in it.

Magnus is still waiting for an answer. But Alec still isn’t… still doesn’t know what to say. Because he doesn’t want to be wrong. He doesn’t want to say ‘yes’ and have Magnus disagree. He can’t handle being _incorrect_ about his own goddamn sex life, or having Magnus think he’s naive because of it. So he tries to deflect. “Do you think we have?”

“I asked you first.”

Alec finally turns around to face him, to make sure he can _see_ how spectacularly Alec rolls his eyes at him. It just makes Magnus chuckle.

But now they’re facing each other. Alec leaning back against the counter, Magnus leaning back against the stove. Magnus is giving him a sort-of-smile, a look that’s gentle and not trying to push him and so obviously ready to listen to him, to really _listen_ to what he has to say and care about his opinion, and it makes Alec want to tell him every thought he’s ever had because he knows his thoughts are safe with Magnus-

“Yeah. Yeah, I… I think we have.”

Magnus’s smile gets bigger. “So do I.”

Alec feels something expand in his chest, like his heart had been stopped and it’s finally beating again. He gives Magnus the best smile he can, though it’s just a little quirk in one side of his mouth.

Magnus tilts his head, and his smile twists bit. “Honestly, I’ve never seen much use for the concept of ‘virginity’, for this very reason. There are too many variables. It’s too ambiguous. If it’s important to someone, that’s a different story - as long as _they’re_ the one defining all those variables. But if not…” He shrugs. “I personally haven’t found the term to be very helpful.” His smile breaks open, and he shifts a little against the stove. “But if it’s been bothering you, darling, I’m sure I could track down a unicorn. So you can get a _professional_ opinion.”

Alec laughs, and takes a moment to appreciate how nice it feels to laugh after being so stressed (especially being stressed over _nothing,_ as it had turned out). “No, I… I don’t think that’s necessary.” He turns back to the sink, still chuckling, and tries to focus on washing the countertop.

He must have been focusing more than he thought, because he nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels Magnus’s hand brush the small of his back. He keeps it there, touching Alec so gently, just a small indication of his presence.

“Alec, are you unhappy with anything we’ve done? Or _not_ done?” His voice is so gentle and cautious that it seems to suck all the air out of the room.

Alec parts his lips. But he can’t make his voice work right away, even though he knows the answer. “No,” he finally manages. Still, it doesn’t feel like enough.

Magnus must not think it’s inadequate, because he slowly, carefully wraps his arms around Alec’s waist. Alec gives a little hum without meaning to, because Magnus is so _warm_ against his back. After a moment, he feels Magnus tuck his face against Alec’s shoulder. Alec leans a little harder against the counter, and closes his eyes, and breathes. And feels Magnus breathe against him. And it’s just so _nice._

When he can finally bring himself to move, he shifts in Magnus’s arms, just far enough so he can see his face. “I… I really li-” His voice gives out, and he swallows to steady it. “I love having sex with you.”

And of course, it sounds all wrong. It sounds like it’s meant to be dirty, or flirtatious, like it’s a pick-up line, and it doesn’t sound sweet or honest or have any of the _meaning_ Alec wanted it to.

But Magnus just smiles at him. A slow, gradual smile, with his eyebrows tilted up and his eyes crinkling in the corners. “I love having sex with you too, Alexander.”

Alec’s stomach flutters, somehow light and deep at the same time. And it suddenly feels like he might just up and die if he doesn't kiss Magnus right now. So he leans in, and Magnus… yes. Magnus must be feeling the same thing, because he's already lifting up onto his tiptoes, his arms still wrapped around Alec.

It's a gentle kiss, just parted lips and the slightest touch of Magnus's tongue. But Alec feels it in every nerve in his body, spreading warmth through his veins.

Even though the timing is _horribly_ wrong, part of Alec wants to hoist Magnus up into his arms and carry him to the bedroom. Or maybe to just lay him down right here, right on the rug in front of the sink. It’s like his whole body is fighting to make him take this further, even though his brain knows this is _not_ the right moment, and there’s still an entire night of opportunity ahead of them.

As if he can somehow sense Alec’s impulses, Magnus pulls away. Alec instinctively chases after his lips, but Magnus smirks at him and steps back, finally releasing Alec’s waist. “So, darling, back to your original question,” he playfully raises an eyebrow. “Are you still a virgin?”

His expression is wry and almost a little _teasing,_ but Alec still knows that he isn’t taking this lightly, or brushing off what Alec is feeling. He’s just making it easier. Easier for Alec to talk about it. Easier.

Even though the mood is lighter now, Alec still takes a moment to really, _really_ think about his answer. But, to his surprise, it ends up being simple. “Either way, I don’t care.” He smiles, and it feels final, like it’s an end. Magnus smiles right back at him, that little smile of his, and that settles it. Conversation over.

“Care to join me for some awful television?” Magnus asks with another playful smirk.

Alec scoffs, and picks up his abandoned washcloth. “Yes, but obviously I’m not done washing up yet.” He gestures to expanse of the sauce-spattered and crumb-littered countertop.

 _“Alexander-”_ Magnus groans, trying to reach across Alec and take the washcloth from him.

Alec sees the slightest hint of blue gathering in Magnus’s fingertips, and he quickly ducks out of the way, holding the cloth up over his head and far out of Magnus’s reach. “If you try to magic this away, I swear I will clean this _entire damn loft_ from floor to ceiling before I watch any tv with you.” He tries to sound threatening, but the laughter that bubbles into his voice kinda ruins the impact.

Magnus gives an _extravagant_ pout, but he steps away in surrender. Alec laughs as he goes back to cleaning, and… he’s probably just imagining it… but he thinks he sees Magnus give a little hint of a smile. A little smile at Alec’s effort. It makes something twist in Alec’s chest.

 _“Fine,”_ Magnus sighs dramatically, “I guess I’ll go watch Dance Moms _by myself.”_ He takes a step backward, toward the living room. “Alone. Completely alone. Lonely, and cold, and un-cuddled-”

“Everything you say is just making me clean _slower,”_ Alec snaps, voice broken by embarrassing little giggles.

“Hmpf.” Magnus pointedly picks up the glass of whiskey he’d left on the stove, and knocks back the rest of it in one go. He sets the glass back down, significantly harder than necessary, before giving a grand turn and storming out of the kitchen. As he goes, Alec can hear him mutter something about “horrible nephilim and their infuriating _responsibility…_ ”

And, well, obviously that’s the last straw.

Alec hurls the soaking washcloth at Magnus’s feet. And Magnus’s brief confusion and _outrage_ lasts just long enough for Alec to run out into the living room after him. He catches Magnus’s little cry of surprise with his mouth, and tackles him onto the couch.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotten several prompts asking to see Magnus and Alec's 'first time', with only that description. And while I'm definitely eager to write things like that, I didn't quite know what to do with the prompts, because Alec's sexual development in this canon happens very gradually, and step-by-step. So instead of having to choose any particular 'first' experience, I wrote this to address that aspect of their relationship. I can never resist the chance to make Alec blush by actually having to _talk_ about sex.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time he wears makeup in the Institute, it's barely anything.

The first time he wears makeup in the Institute, it’s barely anything.

And still, it’s taken _weeks_ to do it. Alec’s had his own makeup kit for two months now. But he’s kept it at Magnus’s. Magnus was the one who’d bought it for him in the first place.

(Though that had _not_ been Alec’s plan. He’d wanted Magnus to go shopping with him to make sure he got the right products in the right colors and make sure Alec didn’t get too overwhelmed by the daunting process. Alec had _every intention_ of paying for his own damn makeup… but obviously anything actually in his price range wasn’t anywhere _near_ good enough for Magnus Bane’s boyfriend. And since Alec can’t spend thirty dollars on concealer, and Magnus can’t let Alec wear five dollar concealer… well. Alec’s desire to have his own makeup had outweighed his pride that day.)

And Magnus has been _wonderful_ about it ever since. He’s never actually done Alec’s makeup for him - not entirely, anyway, just bits and pieces. But he’s taken him through everything, patiently, one product at a time. And by now, Alec doesn’t need help. With just his makeup kit, a mirror, and twenty minutes, Alec can…

He can make himself beautiful.

But Magnus’s loft and the Institute are two completely different worlds. And Alec has never brought his makeup into this world. Not since the morning Izzy had done it for him, and started this whole thing.

She hasn’t mentioned it again. That day, he’d wiped it all off before anyone else could see it (though having to wash it away and see his horrible, plain face again had absolutely destroyed him), and Isabelle has never even acknowledged it. Alec feels more than a little guilty about that, knowing that Izzy probably thinks he’d hated it, when really… it’s the first thing that’s ever made him forget to hate himself at all.

It’s just not something he knows how to say to her. And it’s not something he knows how to _show_ her.

Not just her, but everyone. Everyone in the Institute. There are too many people here. Too many people who would be surprised or confused or demand explanations that Alec doesn’t have. He knows not everyone would care, but there are people who definitely would. And Alec’s not ready to have to defend himself just yet.

Which is why he’s starting small.

It’s just powder. And a little bit of blush.

It’s barely anything.

Compared to the full face of contours and highlights and eyeliner and lipstick that he’ll do for himself when he’s with Magnus, this _hint_ of makeup shouldn’t look like anything at all.

But as Alec stares himself down in the bathroom mirror… yeah. He can tell.

It’s not like it’s an obviously cosmetic look. Knowing what his plain face usually looks like, he can’t imagine anyone would see this and think ‘makeup’. Maybe ‘Alec must have gotten more sleep than usual’, but definitely not ‘Alec’s wearing makeup’. It’s subtle. It’s barely noticeable, really.

But Alec can tell.

His skin looks softer, more even, with less pallor and oily shine. It looks… smooth. Like how skin is supposed to look. And the blush just makes him seem… alive. A tiny hint of natural color right on the apples of his cheeks. It _almost_ looks like the first hint of his actual blush, like he’s a tiny bit flustered or…

Happy.

It makes him look happy.

He looks… good. Better than usual, anyway.  

And it’s not enough that anyone should be able to notice. No one will be able to tell.

But still, staring in the bathroom mirror, knowing he’s at the _Institute_ and not Magnus’s loft (where he knows for a fact that he’ll always be safe and accepted, no matter what he does), knowing that in a few minutes he’s going to be seen by so many people, Izzy, _Jace…_ and that if anyone does notice, he doesn’t have any answers for them…

His heart is beating so fast he thinks he might actually pass out before he makes it to the door. He’s faced down a dozen demons by himself and still felt less terrified than he does right now.

It’s not a special day. No meetings, no missions, he’s not even going out on patrol. He and Isabelle are training together after breakfast, and later he’s leaving to have dinner with Magnus. That’s it. No one special is going to be here. Or see him.

It’s fine.

Everything’s fine.

He can do this.

For some reason, he’s expecting the entire Institute to be waiting for him right outside his bedroom door. Even though he _knows_ how fucking irrational that is, it’s still… surprising to walk out into any empty hallway.

It's almost…

Since he was so worked up, so nervous, so worried about how it would be to have to face everyone, to have them know this about him, it's almost…

No. Fucking no. There's no fucking way that he's _disappointed_ that there's no one here to see him. He's relieved. Obviously. Just relieved.

But that doesn't mean his heart stops racing. Or that it's any easier for him to take a decent breath. He knows he's a bit off. He can feel it. He's walking too quickly. Way too quickly to just be casually heading to the kitchen to get breakfast.

There's barely anything on his face. But somehow, the pressed-in powder feels thicker than foundation right now. He'd checked his face a dozen times, all morning, but all of a sudden he feels like he used the wrong color. Like he's walking around with bright green eyeshadow smeared all over his face. It feels so obvious.

And even if his face wasn’t making him stand out, his frantic pace certainly isn’t blending in with the comparatively calm atmosphere of the Institute before things really start up for the day. Whether it's his makeup or his traitorous body, _something_ is making him look like a fucking idiot right now.

But, still…

No one notices him.

Hallway after hallway, no one pays him any attention. Everyone’s going about their own business. Like always. No one notices.

And there’s no reason why they should. He looks perfectly normal.

Everything’s fine.

He keeps breathing.

Because… this isn’t the point. He isn’t wearing makeup to give himself a fucking heart attack at the prospect of someone seeing it. He’s wearing it because… it makes him look better. It makes him feel better. So if it’s gonna make him feel like shit all day, he might as well give up and wash it off.

And it’s taken so long for him to get up the courage to do this much. Two months. He’s had his own makeup for two fucking months. It’s been almost _three_ months since Isabelle first did his makeup for him. It’s been _months._ And it’s just a bit of powder. A bit of blush. Practically nothing.

He can fucking do this.

He plows ahead with determination and that particular brand of thinly-veiled panic that he can pretend is excitement if he focuses hard enough.

He focuses so hard that he doesn’t notice the kitchen door opening until he’s walked right into it, slamming both his toes and his funny bone, because that’s just his luck.

“Shit, sorry-!” Isabelle garbles out from around a _ridiculously_ large bite of the apple in her hand. But when she notices that it’s Alec, the apologetic part of her demeanor drops away. It’s pretty insulting, really.

“Good morning to you too,” Alec grumbles as he rubs his elbow.

Isabelle just smiles at him and finishes chewing. “Good morning, Big Brother,” she says once she’s swallowed, though it’s a little too sweet to be sincere. “Apple?” She holds it out to him, and he sees that there’s basically nothing left of it, and it’s covered in splotches of her dark red lipstick. “It’s the last one.”

“I think I’m good.” He starts to move past her to get into the kitchen.

But she doesn’t get out of his way. She stays right in the doorway, right where he’s trying to go, propping the door open with her shoulder, just obtrusive enough to block him. She’s just… standing there. Holding her apple. Looking at him.

“Do you… need something?” He asks when the silence becomes a bit too awkward for him.

She raises her eyebrows, like she’s breaking out of a train of thought. “No,” she says lightly, scooching past him.

The door swings shut behind her, and Alec reaches out to grab it before it can slam too loudly.

“Alec?”

He turns to face her, making sure his face _clearly_ shows how much of an inconvenience it is to be interrupted again. He’s hungry, dammit.

Isabelle’s standing a little too close to him. Closer than she needs to be. And she’s giving him a small, subdued smile. “You look nice.”

Alec’s stomach twists in a dozen different directions. Because that smile, and that tone of voice… She knows. She can tell (which, in retrospect, _of course_ she can. This is _Isabelle,_ not some makeup amateur). And she just…

Made it easy.

He looks nice.

That’s why he does this in the first place. Because he looks nice like this. He looks nice. Even if no one besides her notices, he still looks nice.

He doesn’t say ‘thanks.’ Even though that’s exactly what he thinks he should say. That’s exactly the type of thing he would say. But right now, it’s not right.

So instead, he smiles at her and says, “I know.”

 

 

Two weeks after he starts wearing makeup in the Institute, it’s a bit more of a routine.

Yeah, it’s still not _much,_ but it’s definitely more. Enough to feel like a full ‘face’ of makeup. A complete look. He still only uses powders, not foundation. But it’s not just a blank coating of translucent dust like he’s been doing so far. He uses a few more things today. A few different shades, with a few different brushes. Instead of a handful of seconds, this takes him about ten minutes from start to finish.

He covers his face with a much smoother powder. One that’s actually meant to conceal, not just set. It makes his skin look even softer. For once, everything’s an even tone. But it makes his face look a little… blank. So he uses a bit of contour. Under his cheekbones. The edges of his forehead. His jaw. It’s still just powder, something subtle and light and that blends away to almost nothing. He does the same for highlight, dusting it on the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones and under his eyes. It doesn’t stand out. He still looks the same. Just a little softer. Like there’s a little bit of… glow around the edges. And the glow becomes even brighter when he adds a hint more blush than usual, following the shape of his cheekbone a bit further than he usually does.

When it’s all blended and set and finished, Alec takes a step back. Seeing what he’ll look like to everyone else-

Well, to an extent. He’s certainly not going to go wandering around the Institute wearing nothing but tiny blue panties, like he is now. That’s just for him. He likes wearing just his lingerie when he gets ready. When he’s shaving his face to make it soft, and then when he’s brushing it with powders to make it pretty. He likes getting to see the panties that he’s picked out for the day. Getting to block everything else out for a few minutes a day and just have this… just have what’s pretty. Nothing else.

But right now, it’s actually a little distracting. Because he’s trying something new today. He’s never worn this much makeup here. And it’s hard to accurately judge how people are going to see his face when his eyes keep getting drawn to the blue lace hugging his hips.

So he gets dressed, even though it’s disappointing to cover up something so pretty with ugly black jeans and a gray t-shirt (but that’s how it is every morning, so he’s used to it by now).

With a more accurate viewpoint, Alec looks back in the mirror.

Oh.

It really…

He looks-

He’s smiling. He knows that helps. Obviously he looks better when he’s happy than when he’s scowling at himself.

Still. He looks… he looks good.

Except…

With the subtle emphasis on his cheeks and jaw, his eyes are kinda… small. Normally when he does any sort of contour or highlight, he also uses eyeshadow, or liner, or _something_ to make his eyes stand out. And without it, it’s like they’ve disappeared a bit.

Well, fuck.

He knows damn well he’s not going to walk around with winged eyeliner today. And he’s still not confident enough with his eyeshadow-related skills to try something like that. But without it, his eyes just look like they don’t exist. Not like they’re supposed to. And of course it’s his eyes, the one part of his face he really _likes._ Of course that’s the part that’s suddenly completely fucking invisible, with no options…

Wait. Maybe. Maybe there’s…

He digs around in his makeup kit, until he finds it.

Mascara.

Because his eyelashes are already dark. So it’s not like the color would be thrown off. They’d just look thicker. Longer. That’s not… that’s not automatically something unusual. No one would see him and _know_ it’s mascara. Well, Isabelle would, but she’s going to notice _everything_ about his face, so that’s not really relevant.

Just a little mascara. That’ll probably be fine. It’ll be fine.

It’s good stuff (which is understandable, since Magnus spent _way too much_ on it). One quick swipe of the brush against his lashes makes them seem exponentially bigger. Alec doesn’t use much, just a solid coat on his upper lashes, and a little dab on the lower. And that’s…

Yeah.

That’s it.

It’s such a small change. But it makes all the difference. His eyes stand out again. Big, and bright, and… yeah. Pretty.

Alright. This is good. He looks good. He still doesn’t look overly ‘made up’, but it’s an improvement. It’s _such_ an improvement on his bare face.

And somehow, it’s so much less nerve-wracking to go out into the Institute like this. Because that first barrier has already been breached. He’s worn makeup here before. And no one cared. No one called him out on it. The world didn’t end. And it’s surprisingly easy to convince himself that this is the same, even though he knows it’s so much more noticeable.

This time, instead of panicking, he just feels… good. He looks good. And it makes him feel good.

Yeah. It’s gonna be a good day.

He makes it less than a dozen steps out of his bedroom before the universe decides to punish him for his optimism.

Clary’s coming right for him. Though he can’t quite tell it's her right away, since she’s buried by a comically large stack of books. It’s ridiculous. Alec can barely see her face behind the pile, but the hair gives her away. Alec’s overheard that Isabelle is helping her study rare and obscure runes, so that explains what she’s doing here, but… fuck. Where’d she even _find_ that many books? Isabelle’s room is pretty cluttered as it is, Alec’s not sure it can fit a small person _and_ a small library.

Clary knows where she’s going and makes it to Isabelle’s door without having to glance past her books, so she doesn’t even notice Alec… which is a bit of a relief. Alec’s not quite ready for her brand of _energy_ this early. He hasn’t even had any coffee yet.

So, of course, she starts fumbling for the door handle right as Alec walks by, and _of course_ it’s just enough movement to compromise the structural integrity of her well-crafted tower of books.

And of fucking course Alec can’t just walk away and let her be smothered to death in a book avalanche, so he steps in and steadies the load in her arms right before it all collapses.

“Wh-!” Clary starts to make a startled noise, but cuts herself off when she realizes the disaster has been averted. “Thanks,” she says instead, shifting a little to get a better grip.

“Ah… sure,” Alec says lamely, since he can’t think of anything else to say.

“I know I should have just taken two trips,” she makes a sound that was probably supposed to be a casual laugh (but misses by a long shot) as she starts to crane her neck around the obstructive books, “but I-” She sees him. “Whoa! Alec!”

Alec freezes. She’s looking right at him. And her eyes are wide as saucers. Her mouth didn’t close all the way. It would be a comical look if it weren’t for the circumstances. She’s never noticed his makeup before, but this…

She notices this.

Alec squares his shoulders, sets his jaw, and prepares himself for the worst. “What?” He demands as defensively as possible.

Clary blinks a few times. Then, she closes her mouth. Her face… does something. “Nothing, it’s just…” It’s a little twitch around her mouth. Alec doesn’t know how to read her expressions yet, doesn’t know what it means. But the twitch happens again, and it’s… oh. It’s a smile. A little smile. “You look good. Like, _really_ good.”

Alec sucks in a breath. Because…

Because it’s true. He does look good. He knows that. And now… someone else thinks so too. It’s…

“Yeah. I, uh…” He swallows. “Thanks, Clary.”

He opens Isabelle’s door for her, and walks out to face the rest of the Institute.

It’s going to be a good day.

 

 

Three months after he starts wearing makeup in the Institute, it’s the best part of his day.

“Did you ever get around to buying new primer?”

Alec chews on his lower lip, which makes his smile look weird in the mirror. “I’m… not going to answer that.” He reaches into his makeup kit and buries his primer under a particularly fluffy brush, just in case.

“Darling,” Magnus’s voice echoes from the speaker on Alec’s phone, which is resting on the lip of the sink next to him, “I _know_ what that means.”

“It’s not my fault that I ran out of the expensive stuff! I can’t afford the same brands as you. I _had_ to get something cheap.” His smile gets a little wider, which makes it difficult for him to accurately brush a nice line of contour under his cheekbone. “They actually sell pretty good makeup at the dollar store.”

_“Alexander!”_

“I’m kidding!” Alec says through little bubbling laughs. “I got good stuff.” He tilts his face in the mirror, making sure his cheeks are evenly blended. “I mean, not as good as yours. I’d have to sell a couple organs on the black market to be able to afford _that.”_

“Alec, I’ve offered _multiple_ times-”

“I know, I know,” Alec rolls his eyes as he rummages through his case, “but you’ve already spent too much on makeup for me. Way too much. I need to get used to getting it for myself.”

Magnus sighs grandly, and it makes the speaker on Alec’s cheap phone crackle a bit. “Fine. I guess I’ll just have to wait for your birthday. Maybe I’ll buy you your own Sephora store.”

“Please don’t.” Alec’s not sure if Magnus actually has enough money to do that, but if he _does,_ Alec can definitely imagine him going through with it.

Magnus laughs, and when it fades out, there’s silence. But Alec doesn’t mind.

Phone calls used to be absolutely horrible for him. He couldn’t bear the idea of silence (which sounds so horrifically _loud_ on the phone, in a way it never does in real life), so he’d fill gaps with whatever he could think of, which, being him, was usually not very high-quality conversation. But this is different. Because he’s doing something. He’s doing his makeup. And on the other end of the line, he knows that Magnus is doing the same.

It started a while ago. Back when Magnus was still helping Alec get the hang of doing his makeup, they’d do it together in Magnus’s bathroom whenever Alec spent the morning there. So once Alec learned how to do it for himself, it just made sense for them to keep getting ready at the same time. So it seemed like a natural solution for the mornings when Alec _wasn’t_ there. For Magnus to call him, for them to put their phones on speaker, and for them do their makeup together. It’s just how it is now.

And Alec loves it.

He’d already loved doing his makeup. Sitting in the little folding chair he keeps tucked away next to the shower, wearing nothing but pretty lingerie, and making himself look beautiful. For months now, it’s been his favorite part of the day.

And now, he gets to talk to Magnus while he does it.

Alec pulls out his favorite eyeshadow palette. He’s been wearing small, soft traces of eyeshadow for about a week now, but it still feels new enough to be exhilarating. Because it’s noticeable. Unlike his powders and blushes and highlights, this can’t be mistaken for the effects of a good night’s sleep. This is color, right on his eyelids. It’s unmistakable.

And it still gives Alec a little rush, right before he puts it on.

He looks at each little square of color, a range of neutral shades with just a little hint of shimmer. He glances back up at himself, widening his eyes a bit to get a better look. “Hey, Mags?”

“Hm?”

“What color eyeshadow should I use?”

Alec can hear the little sounds of things being shifted over the phone, like Magnus is putting back whatever he was just using and picking up something else. “Well, that depends on what you’re wearing.”

“Magnus,” Alec gives his phone an _extremely_ unimpressed look in hopes that Magnus will somehow be able to sense it, “you’ve been dating me for nine months. I’m wearing a black t-shirt. You _know_ I’m wearing a black t-shirt.”

Magnus giggles a bit, which is so stupidly _adorable_ that Alec can’t keep himself from smiling. “I can dream that you’ll vary your wardrobe one day, can’t I?” He stops laughing, but his voice is still a little playful. “But I was referring to what you’re wearing right _now._ I somehow doubt that it’s a black t-shirt.”

Alec feels something, like a pang, right between his stomach and his chest. It’s like his insides don’t know what they’re supposed to do.

Which is ridiculous, really. Magnus has seen him in less than these panties (which cover significantly more than some of his other pairs). It doesn’t make any sense that Magnus just _mentioning_ them should have any effect on him. Magnus can’t even fucking see him right now. He’s just guessing.

Though, maybe that’s what it is. The thought of Magnus guessing what he’s wearing. The thought of Magnus… _imagining_ it. Imaging Alec in nothing but some little shred of lace and ribbon. It’s not like this is even a sexual context, but it’s still… it’s still enough to make Alec’s face heat up.

“I, ah… It’s- it’s the…” His tongue feels too thick, like it’s taking up more space in his mouth than it’s supposed to. “I’m… the, ah…” He glances down at himself, even though he damn well knows what panties he’s wearing. “The dark purple ones? Well, purple, with the darker purple-”

“Lace trim,” Magnus finishes for him, and he gives a low, satisfied hum. “I do _love_ that pair. Your ass looks particularly spectacular in those, angel.”

Alec’s face is just about as red as he’s ever seen it, and his heart is beating much quicker than he’d like. “Magnus-”

“Hm, now that I think about it, I can’t remember them as well as I thought. Maybe I should portal myself over there to get a better look. To make sure I can give you an accurate opinion on your eyeshadow choice, of course.”

Alec laughs. “Magnus, you’re not _that_ desperate-”

“Darling, of course I am, when you put images like that into my head. It’s been far too long since we last had sex.”

“We had sex _yesterday,_ Mags.”

“I know, it’s been _ages.”_

Alec laughs again, loud and light and easy. “Well it sure doesn’t feel like it’s been ages for me. Not with how damn uncomfortable it is to sit on this chair.”

Magnus inhales loudly enough for Alec to hear it over the line. “That’s…” he starts, but he sounds almost… uncertain? “That’s certainly an… interesting thought.” He pauses, just long enough for Alec’s heart to start racing again. “I must admit, darling, the thought of you sitting in that meeting today, shifting in your chair, still _feeling_ -” His voice cuts off, and he gives a quiet, _deep_ moan. “That is quite appealing to imagine.”

Alec’s mouth dries up. Because, has he really never…? After these few months, has he never mentioned this before? How he can always feel it, the day after Magnus makes love to him, he can still feel the little sting when he sits down, the little physical reminder, just enough to make it _impossible_ for him to not remember what happened. No matter what he’s doing, where his mind is, as soon as he sits down he has no choice but to think back to the night before. What it felt like. How good it was. And he… loves it.

Shit. He fucking _loves_ it.

A physical stamp. A tangible imprint of the way Magnus had him, the way Magnus claimed him like that. Not letting Alec forget. All day, little reminders of how much Magnus wants him, without Magnus even having to _do_ anything.

Has Alec really never told him any of this?

He doesn’t know what to say. All the words dried up with his mouth. And he’s helpless. He wants to say something, to let him know how good it is, how much he wants to move in his chair again just to make it sting a bit more. How much he loves it.

But he can’t. He can’t think of a single damn word.

Magnus clears his throat, and just like that, the moment’s over. “But I think you know the answer to your question.” He’s forcing himself to sound collected, Alec can tell, but he still sounds pleased. “There’s something so deliciously wonderful about matching your makeup to your lingerie. Getting to show off what color it is, without anyone having to know that’s what you’re doing.” He chuckles. “It adds another layer to the secret.”

Alec still can’t quite make his voice work. But that… yeah. That sounds nice. He glances back down at the eyeshadow palette he’s left open on the counter. “I…” he shakes his head, like that can actually clear his mind. “I have that… kinda smokey purple? It’s a little dark, but if I don’t use too much…”

Magnus gives another hum, this one calm and happy. “I think that would be absolutely beautiful.”

Alec feels his chest tighten. But he smiles as he picks up his brush. “Yeah, me too.”

 

 

Five months after he starts wearing makeup at the Institute, he barely thinks about it anymore.

It’s just part of his day. Yeah, it’s his favorite part of the day, but not in a thrilling, rebellious sort of way anymore. Now it’s a gentle, casual part of his routine. Shower, shave, panties, makeup. And every few weeks or so, he adds toenail polish. But that stays put pretty well, so he doesn’t have to do it very often.

It’s just how it is now. A full face of makeup. Colors and creams and a bit of shimmer if he’s in the mood for it. He doesn’t have to give it a second thought.

Yeah, it’s not a secret anymore. It’s not a little subtle hint here and there that can be passed off as anything else. He still wears less than Isabelle, or even Clary, but it’s very obviously _makeup._

It had been so terrifying at first, the idea that anyone might see him and know what was on his face. But now, five months later, everyone knows.

And he just doesn’t give a fuck.

Because what can happen? If someone doesn’t like that he’s walking around with a cosmetic glow (and he knows there are people here who really _do_ hate it), what are they gonna do? He’s the acting head of the Institute. Even if someone did say ‘hey, don’t wear that makeup anymore’, it doesn’t fucking _mean_ anything. This is what he does, and no one can change that.

So it’s surprisingly easy to paint a thick black line onto his eyelids today.

He hasn’t used eyeliner here before. At first, he’d just assumed he wasn’t ready for that yet, since it’s _so_ noticeable. More so than anything else he’s done. But after a few months, it wasn’t that anymore. He thinks he just… didn’t want to yet. Because he looked good without it. So it’d just be an extra hassle to do it. Extra time to put it on. Extra effort to wash it off.

But today, he wants it.

And it’s a simple as that.

It’s simple.

He wants to wear eyeliner. Pretty, smooth, _dark_ eyeliner, with a little hint of a wing flaring at the corner. Nothing over the top. He knows it’s nothing compared to what Izzy or Magnus usually do. But for him, it’s nice. It looks nice.

And if anyone disagrees, they can go fuck themselves.

Not surprisingly, there _are_ a few people who seem to disagree. But Alec manages to restrain himself from actually telling them to go fuck themselves, and he’s proud of himself for that. It’s not much, just a few disapproving glances. A few people who look at him a little _too_ long for it to be casual.

And, by the Angel, Alec just can’t make himself care.

No one actually _says_ anything about it until lunch.

He’s barely paying attention to what he’s eating. It’s a sandwich? He thinks it’s a sandwich. It’s something he can hold in one hand, so his other hand is free to use his phone, that’s all that matters. He’s going back and forth between checking mundane police reports for anything that looks suspiciously Shadow World related, and finishing a rather heated text conversation with Magnus about what they’re going to do for their quickly-approaching anniversary (because Alec is _not_ going to let Magnus rent them a _castle_ for the week, no matter how much he begs or how many crying emojis he uses).

He’s so absorbed in the two separate trains of thought that he doesn’t even notice Jace sit down across from him at the table.

“Hey.”

Alec looks up, a bite of sandwich still hanging out of his mouth. Jace is breathing hard, sweating around his forehead and neck, and literally still pulling his shirt down over his stomach. Either he’s just come from working out, or he and Clary _really_ need to work on public decency.

“Hrmph,” Alec offers through his mouthful, figuring it’s enough of a greeting.

Jace is looking at him strangely. Eyes narrowed. Mouth twisted up.

Alec’s phone buzzes in his hand, and he decides to ignore whatever Jace is doing in favor of reading Magnus’s newest argument.

“Are you wearing _eyeliner?”_

Alec looks back up. And carefully swallows his food.

Jace has never said anything before. He’s noticed (at least, Alec thinks he _must_ have, because it’s damn noticeable now. Then again, he’s not sure Jace knows enough about makeup to recognize anything less than bright blue lipstick), and he’s never said a word. No strange looks. No insinuations, no jokes - which is probably the most surprising part. Even though Alec knows he’s supportive, he usually has to make a sarcastic comment about _everything._

But he hasn’t about this. He hasn’t said anything.

Until now.

Alec looks at him. Looks him right in the eye. Without blushing, or flinching, or shrinking back. “Yes.”

Jace’s eyebrows un-furrow, raising up toward his hairline. “Hm.” One of his shoulders moves, like the tiniest hint of a shrug. “Looks nice.”

And he reaches over and steals the other half of Alec’s sandwich.

 

 

Six months after he starts wearing makeup in the Institute, he’s forgotten that things weren’t always like this.

He’s just ended his call with Magnus (a process which is getting lengthier and more difficult as they both realize how stupid it is that Alec still lives here, lives anywhere else, anywhere that’s _not_ with Magnus), he’s touched up the soft blue polish on his fingernails, and he’s just getting out his setting spray to finish his _perfect_ face of makeup. And he really can’t remember a time when this wasn’t his life. When he didn’t look in his bathroom mirror with excitement, seeing his face as a canvas of possibility, watching himself become more and more beautiful, until he can’t wait to get out of his room and show it off. He doesn’t remember what it’s like to look at himself and only feel hatred.

He’s halfway done with spritzing his face when there’s a knock on his bedroom door.

Which… that doesn’t make sense.

It’s like, eight in the morning. The only person who could possibly be looking for him right now is Isabelle, and she doesn’t _knock._

He checks the time on his phone. They have a mission briefing today, but it’s not for another ten minutes. He can’t be late enough for someone to be hunting him down.

“Who is it?” he calls, loud enough to make it through the bathroom and the bedroom.

“It’s me,” the small voice says, unhelpfully. “Oh, it’s ah, Clary.”

This makes even _less_ sense.

By the time he opens the door, he can practically feel how accusatory his face must look. But he’s confused, and his immediate response to confusion is still to assume that something horrible is happening. “What do you need?”

Shit. That sounded meaner than he meant it too. He tries to make a vaguely apologetic face to make up for it.

But Clary doesn’t look offended. She looks…

Uh oh. She looks really, _really_ unenthusiastic about whatever she’s here to tell him. She’s basically grimacing.

“Is everything okay?” Confusion is quickly turning into panic, and Alec immediately starts running through the last time he saw Izzy, Jace, Magnus, where everyone is right now, how each of them could have gotten hurt since he last spoke to them-

“No, everything’s… fine,” Clary says, but she still looks like there’s something disgustingly bitter in her mouth. “I just, um…” She outright frowns now, and she looks almost… guilty. “But Isabelle isn’t here and Jace is already in the briefing and I didn’t know who else would tell you so I thought I should give you a… heads up.” Her voice gets higher, and her face looks even _more_ uncomfortable, until it’s like she’s unbearably sorry for what she’s about to say. “Um, Maryse just got here.”

Alec’s heart beats once, so loud that it’s like a quick, deafening thud in his ears.

Shit.

_Fuck._

“Oh,” he forces out, and it sounds like a gurgle.

“She said she’s staying for a week. It’s just her. Your dad’s still in Idris.”

So they’re fighting again. Awesome. Perfect. Fucking excellent. Maryse’s marriage is falling into shitty little pieces so she decides to run away and _deign_ to spend a few days with her children, without even giving them a _hint_ of warning.

Fucking great.

Fuck.

It’s almost a little… comforting that Clary obviously knows how shitty this is. But still, it’s not her fault, and she clearly thinks that she’s going to get the brunt of his reaction. And that’s not fair. “Thanks for… yeah. Thanks for the warning.”

Clary tries to smile, but it looks so pained it’s almost comical. “There’s still a few minutes before the briefing starts. I’ll… see you there.” And she practically dashes out of the doorway, which is understandable.

He knows what she meant. That there’s a little bit of time. That he still has time to wash off his makeup before he sees Maryse. To take off his nail polish. To look like he used to, like he still does whenever he sees his parents. He can still do that.

He touches his face, gently trailing his fingertips across his perfectly contoured jawline.

He looked so pretty today.

He was so excited. He couldn’t wait for people to see how good he looks.

And now…

It’s so much. Shadows and highlights and smokey eyes and a touch of neutral lipstick and a little bit of shimmer all over and blue nails, with the little love rune that Magnus drew on his thumb.

There’s no way to pass it off. To hide it. It’s not something excusable anymore. Something he can pretend is _just_ to cover his skin, or fix his complexion. It’s turned into so much more. Now, it’s artistic. It’s art. Right there on his face. Decorative and pretty and so obviously a luxury. Unnecessary.

And it looks good. It looks so good.

But Maryse is here.

Maryse is in the Institute, possibly right down the hall. So he doesn’t have a choice. He has to take it off.

He closes his bedroom door and walks back into the bathroom. Back to the mirror, to look at his work. He looks at himself one more time.

And he’s beautiful.

He’s never thought something like that about himself before. Not until he found this. And now because of it, he doesn’t even hate his bare face as much as he used to, either. It’s just that he only likes it when he gets to _choose_ to leave it like that. When he washes his face at Magnus’s when he spends the night. When he’s in the shower with him. When he still feels beautiful, and loved, regardless of what he looks like.

This is different. Because someone is forcing him to do this. He looks so beautiful right now and he has no choice but to take it all away. Wash off his prettiness and leave himself with a plain, ugly, _miserable_ face… because his mother is here.

His mother is here, so he has to make himself ugly again. He has to hate himself again.

It’s so…

By the Angel, it’s so _fucked up_ Alec can’t even believe it.

It’s too fucked up. He can’t-

He can’t.

He _won’t._

He won’t make himself ugly to make his mother comfortable. Why the fuck should he? Hate himself, _hate_ himself, so he can make his mother happy?

No.

Fuck that.

He’s not gonna do it.

Because he looks _good_ godfuckingdammit and if Maryse can’t appreciate that…

Well. Then that’s her goddamn problem, not his.

But however pretty he looks, however good he feels about himself, however much he _knows_ that he’s right about this, he still can’t catch his goddamn breath as he leaves his room. His heart has never beat this hard, or raced this fast. He’s never felt more terrified. Because of his own goddamn mother. Every hallway is a threat, every step is just bringing him one step closer to-

Maryse.

She’s walking a different way than him. Her back is turned to him. She can’t see him. And she won’t. She’ll keep walking her way to wherever she’s going, and she won’t even see Alec. He’ll turn a different way, go to the mission briefing, and this won’t have to happen yet. He can ignore it for a few more hours. Ignore her. Pretend she’s not here.

But then he’ll just be terrified through the whole meeting, knowing this is still going to happen. There’s no point in putting it off. Ripping off a bandaid. Just… rip it.

“Mother,” he says, just loudly enough to get her attention.

She glances over her shoulder, and stops when she sees Alec. She’s smiling, a little. But she can’t _really_ see him yet, while he’s still walking over to her. He keeps getting closer, and one of these steps is going to be the one that lets her see. See how he looks. See this thing that’s become so important to him now.

The moment is obvious. He can see the change in her eyes.

It’s surprise, at first. She’s startled. Her eyebrows knit together, and her lips tighten. It’s like she doesn’t quite understand what she’s seeing.

And then… she laughs.

An uncomfortable laugh, like it’s a joke, and she knows this is the punchline, but she doesn’t get it yet.

She sees his face, and she laughs.

And Alec thinks, _bizarrely,_ of Camille. Of what Magnus has told him about their relationship. About how he had told her that he loved her, that he really, honestly loved her. And she’d laughed at him. Magnus told her something so important and true and _necessary_ to him, and she’d laughed. Right in his face. Alec has never been able to comprehend how something like that could have felt.

But now, he thinks he gets it.

“Alec,” Maryse says as her only form of greeting. “I take it… Isabelle had a little too much fun this morning?”

That… well. After _laughing_ at him, Alec supposes that’s far from the worst response he could have gotten. But still, it stings. She doesn’t understand the situation, but it still feels like an insult. “No. I did this myself.” His heart is still pounding in his ears, but he forces his voice to keep steady.

Maryse still looks confused. She must not have any explanations for this that would satisfy her. No way to brush this off and not have to think about it. But he can see her try. “I… I’m not sure I understand,” she says quietly.

Which is a pretty big deal for her. Admitting she doesn’t know something. Surprisingly, it gives Alec a bit more confidence. “I wear makeup now, Mother. I wear it every day.”

She’s quiet for several moments. Her face is changing, folding in on itself somehow. Shrinking. She’s ramping up to something, that’s clear. But it takes such a long time for her to speak again. And when she does, her voice is dangerously quiet. “I knew that warlock would cause problems for you.”

It’s like a punch in the gut. Alec’s winded by it. He can’t get his breath back. “Mother-”

“I didn’t know it would be…” she waves vaguely at Alec’s face, “ _this,_ but I knew all this time fooling around with him would give you ideas.”

“Mom-”

“Honestly, Alec, it’s one thing to make a fool of yourself when you’re with your warlock, but this isn’t a joke. There are members of the Clave here and you’re embarrassing yourself _and_ this family just because that warlock-”

 _“Mother!”_ Alec snaps, loud and sharp and harsh enough to stun her into silence. “His _name_ is Magnus.” He takes a step in to her. “He’s not my warlock, he’s my boyfriend. And I’m not fooling around with him, I’m in love with him. And this makeup wasn’t his idea. It was mine. I am capable of making decisions on my own. But even though it _wasn’t_ his idea, when I told him that wearing it makes me feel _good,_ he supported me. Because he loves me, and he wants me to feel good about myself. Not that that’s something you’d understand.”

He has to stop to catch his breath. His nerves are all firing too much at him. He’s feeling too much. His heart is still racing, but it’s not with fear anymore. And he doesn’t take his eyes off of Maryse.

She’s looking at him, eyes wide, lips pressed together so tightly, like she’s barely keeping in whatever she’s going to shout at him as soon as she breaks.

But Alec’s not interested, so he speaks before she can start. “I look good, Mother. I’m not going to pretend I’m sorry for that.” He squares his shoulders. “Now if you’ll excuse me, this conversation has made me late for a mission briefing.”

And he walks away.

He walks away from her. And even though his heart is racing and he has to squeeze his hands into fists to keep them from shaking, he holds his head high.

It’s exhilaration, and horror, and disbelief. All mixed into one jumble and pouring through him too quickly to really feel any of it. It’s overwhelming. After a few steps, he can even feel the beginnings of tears gathering in his eyes.

But he’s not going to let himself cry. After all, that would smudge his eyeliner. And he’s not going to let anything damage his perfect makeup. He looks too good.

He’s not going to let anything ruin that.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, Alec won the argument, and Magnus _didn't_ get to rent them a castle for their anniversary.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t want to end up being someone you regret.”  
> Well, fuck. A dozen _good_ ways to bring it up, and he says _that_ instead.

Alec knocks.

And somehow, it’s a strange feeling.

Which makes no fucking sense. Seriously. He’s only been to Magnus’s loft a handful of times. Maybe even less. How many is a handful? He’s been here three or four times, he’s pretty sure he could fit a few more visits in his hand.

Magnus is expecting him. Alec had texted him and asked if he could come over, because there’s no way in hell that Alec can just… _show up_ here. Or anywhere, really. But especially not here. He needed to ask if it was alright, to give Magnus a heads up, and a chance to say no.

But Magnus had said it was fine. Even more than that, he’d sounded a little… excited. Alec doesn’t want to read into it…

But he supposes it makes sense. Because things are- yeah. They’re different now. It makes sense that Magnus would want to see him. It’s a good thing that Magnus wants to see him.

Still, that doesn’t keep Alec’s heart from speeding up to dangerous levels when the door to Magnus’s loft swings open.

He was expecting Magnus to be there, to have actually physically _opened_ the door, but the doorway is empty. Alec takes a moment to be surprised, then schools his expression and walks in. He’s not sure if the door is going to close behind him, so he sort of… half-reaches for the knob-

And it closes with a dull thud. Alec quickly pulls back his hand, tugging awkwardly at the hem of his shirt to try and justify the movement.

“Be right out,” Magnus’s voice echoes from… somewhere. Alec thinks it’s coming from the bedroom? And even though Magnus had said he could come over right away, Alec feels a pang of worry that he’d interrupted something. That his visit is any sort of inconvenience. He knows there have to be better things for Magnus to be doing right now, and he wishes Magnus would have just _told_ him that instead of-

Something hits his feet.

He looks down, reflexes kicking in and poising his body for a fight.

Oh.

“Hi, Chairman. Remember me?” Alec asks as the small cat tries to gnaw at the toe of his boot. He’s got one paw on each of Alec’s shoes, claws out but unable to find purchase in the hard leather. It’s cute, but Alec doesn’t really want him to get any ideas and start clawing at his jeans, so he tries to gently nudge him away with his other foot.

But Chairman Meow takes this as a challenge, and quickly pounces from one boot to the other, making a sound that must be the tiny cat version of a battle cry.

Shit, it’s cute enough that Alec has to laugh. He cautiously leans down, holding out his hand, hoping he’s not condemning himself to a fistful of tiny scratches.

The Chairman tenses, immediately distracted by Alec’s hand. But he stops, and sniffs his fingers delicately. And after a moment of deliberation, he headbutts Alec’s knuckles, ducking down so Alec’s hand will be in the perfect position to pet him.

But as soon as Alec actually starts to stroke his hand along the cat’s spine, he hisses and darts away, disappearing behind the sofa.

“Hey!” Alec says quietly, because he didn’t deserve that. “Come back here.” He follows him to the sofa, which is currently placed a few feet in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, turned so it faces out to the rest of the loft.

Chairman Meow is pressed right up to the back of the couch, staying low to the floor, ready to pounce. Alec takes a step closer, but the cat doesn’t move. “Alright.” He slowly crouches down, trying his best not to startle the Chairman into running off again. And when that seems to work, he carefully sits down, leaning against the back of the couch and stretching his legs out toward the windows. He keeps one hand held out toward the cat, not quite sure how else to make himself seem non-threatening, and not quite ready to throw away all his dignity and talk any _more_ to this small animal than he already has.

To his delight, the Chairman only takes a few moments to hesitantly nose around Alec’s fingers again before he makes up his mind and calmly steps right up onto Alec’s lap. He steps a few different ways, getting his paws in a few different arrangements, before snuggling down in a little curled-up cat ball, his fluffy tail twitching lightly against Alec’s stomach.

Alec waits a moment to make sure he’s settled, then carefully starts petting the Chairman in a smooth line from head to tail. At first, the cat tenses with a small, unhappy noise… but after a pause, he starts purring, and settles further into Alec’s lap.

It’s nice. He’s a stupidly cute little cat.

“Well, now I see where your affections _truly_ lie.”

Alec just barely manages to keep himself from flinching. How did Magnus sneak up on him like that? He’s a Shadowhunter, dammit. His reflexes shouldn’t completely fail him just because of a _cat._

“Hey, he sat down on _me,_ that’s not my fault,” Alec defends before glancing up at Magnus-

Oh.

Magnus is standing next to the couch, not quite behind it. And he’s…

Alec’s never seen him like this.

He’s wearing… this can’t be right. He’s wearing _jeans,_ dark and incredibly expensive looking, but still jeans. And a… t-shirt. A black t-shirt.

Alec blinks a few times. Trying to make the glamour, or the hallucination, or whatever this is go away. Because…

Even _Alec_ isn’t wearing a black t-shirt right now. He’s wearing a denim button-up. And there’s no way… there’s no fucking way that Magnus Bane is dressed more casually than him. That’s… that’s fucking impossible.

He’s not even wearing any jewelry, except that… twisty… earring thing that he always has. There’s probably a word for it, but Alec doesn’t know it. That’s the only jewelry Alec can see. He’s not even wearing any rings. _No_ rings. This doesn’t make any sense. It looks like he’s still wearing makeup, but significantly less of it than usual, from what Alec can tell. There’s just a hint of color on his eyes, no thick lines or dark corners or glitter. His hair is… up, in that way it usually is, all swoopy and fancy, so that’s something. But apart from that-

He’s so… huh. The first word Alec’s mind gives him is ‘plain’, but that’s not right. Alec is plain. That’s a word for him, not Magnus. Like this, Magnus doesn’t look plain, he looks…

Simpler. Less… grand, less ornamental. But no less beautiful. Alec’s not sure he’ll ever be able to get used to how beautiful Magnus is. He’s never seen a man as unapologetically beautiful as Magnus before.

Even like this. In unremarkable clothes and no jewelry and makeup that Alec is realizing is only half-finished (and he feels a sinking feeling of dread that he interrupted Magnus while he was getting ready for the day… but then it twists into a feeling of something else, something he can’t quite place, because Alec's seeing Magnus when he's not ready yet, and how many people does Magnus let see him like this?). Alec had thought once that Magnus’s intense beauty was inextricably tied to his wardrobe, because it’s something Alec’s never seen before. Seeing a man in makeup and glitter and things that are so unbearably _pretty._ Alec had been certain that that’s what kept drawing his eye to Magnus, over and over again.

But apparently, that theory is bullshit.

Because Magnus doesn’t have any of that now. And he’s still so beautiful that Alec can’t catch his fucking breath.

Alec has to say something. The need is so strong it’s like he’s being choked by it. Something simple, nothing over the top. ‘You look nice.’ That’s all it has to be. Just something to let him know.

“Y-you… th- st’s… s’nice.”

Alec closes his eyes, and breathes out slowly through his nose.

Can he please burst into flames now? Maybe that would at least distract Magnus enough to forget what just vomited out of his stupid mouth.

Magnus chuckles. Softly. Gently. Alec opens his eyes and risks a glance up at him. He’s smiling. His head’s tilted a little to one side. The look he’s giving Alec is sort of, really… fond.

It’s… nice.

“I take it you’re here to tell me that you never had any interest in _me,_ and you actually want to date my cat.” Magnus’s smile twists into a smirk, and he leans a little against the couch.

Alec opens his mouth.

And closes it again.

And looks down at himself.

He suddenly realizes that he asked Magnus Bane if he could come over to his apartment with hardly any notice… and then he’d immediately sat down on the floor behind his couch and curled up with his cat.

It’s… yep. It’s definitely the least dignified and most embarrassing situation he’s ever been in. And he’s the one who put himself here.

Awesome.

“N-no,” Alec starts, desperately trying to remember any of the _numerous_ scripts he’d practiced in his mind before coming over here. He’s been getting ready for this conversation for days now.

So of course, the second he gets here, he forgets every damn word.

“It’s, um. It’s about… I wanted to- it’s about our… date.”

Magnus’s face changes somehow, but Alec’s not quite sure what it means. “Really? I know I get my days confused now and then, but I have my calendar quite clearly marked for this Friday.” He leans a little harder on the sofa and crosses his arms. “Unless you’re so eager that you want to move it up to tonight?”

Alec fumbles out a quick laugh despite himself. “No. I mean, I _am…_ it’s not-” He sighs. “I wanted to talk to you. About it. Before.”

Magnus keeps smiling, but something fades from his eyes. He’s still ‘smiling’, but it’s not genuine anymore. It’s… cautious. Uncertain. It’s a strange look for him. “So… I take it I shouldn’t offer you a drink?”

Alec tries to smile, but fails miserably. “No. I’m fine… Thanks.”

He expects Magnus to go over to the minibar anyway, or possibly to just… poof a glass of scotch into his hand. But he doesn’t. Instead, he-

He steps behind the couch. And sits down. Right on the floor. Right next to Alec.

The High Warlock of Brooklyn, barefoot, in jeans and a t-shirt, sitting on the floor behind his couch. Just because Alec wants to talk to him.

It’s…

Alec doesn’t know what to do with it.

“What’s on your mind, Alexander?”

Huh. When’s the last time someone asked him that?

Alec blinks hard, trying to clear his head. To remember what he’s rehearsed so much the past few days.

“Th- it, wh…”

Good start.

“Its, um… what we… we got interrupted, we never really finished talking-” He swallows. “What, what Camille…”

Magnus breathes in, a little hard. “Yes. That.”

Alec looks down at Chairman Meow, who’s still dozing peacefully in his lap. So he doesn’t have to look at Magnus. He can’t look at Magnus.

There are a dozen different ways he’s thought of to ease himself into this conversation. There’s no _good_ starting point, but he’s thought of plenty of options to make it slightly less horrible. So it won’t be too awkward-

“I don’t want to end up being someone you regret.”

Well, fuck. A dozen _good_ ways to bring it up, and he says _that_ instead.

He can hear Magnus breathe in, like he’s about to start talking. And Alec can’t let that happen. He needs to make himself clear first. He doesn’t want Magnus to respond to _that._

“Wh-what I meant is… is that… I don’t want to- to start something, if it’s gonna end up… hurting you. Later.” His fingers start pressing a little too hard on Chairman Meow’s head, and he has to pull his hand away entirely to keep himself from smothering him. His heart his pounding so loud in his ears that he’s probably shouting at Magnus just so he can hear himself over it. It feels like he’s shouting. It feels like this is the loudest and stupidest he’s ever sounded. “And if, if that _is_ something that’s… a problem… I figured it’d be best to deal with it. Now. Instead of later. I thought this would be the easiest time to… change your mind.”

He exhales whatever breath is left in his lungs. It comes out shaking. It’s taking all of his self-control to keep his whole damn body from shaking too. He’s so tense, it’s like the slightest movement might make him shatter into a pile of useless nerves. He can’t breathe.

And Magnus… isn’t saying anything. Second after second, he just _doesn’t_ respond. Magnus has always had an answer for _everything._ This can’t be good.

After what’s probably no more than a few seconds but feels like several _hours,_ Magnus clears his throat. “I think it’s a little early in life to be troubled by your mortality, Alexander.”

That’s… not what Alec was expecting. It’s not one of the various answers he’d prepared himself for Magnus to give. So he doesn’t know what to do with it. “But that’s-” His mouth works for a few moments, but no words form. “That’s the point. Because if you… Now’s the best time to…” he doesn’t know how to finish.

Well, he _does,_ but he’s not sure he can make himself say ‘If you’re going to dump me, I’d like you to do it now, before I can get too hopeful.’

But he thinks Mangus must know what he means, because after a small pause, he says, “I’ve dated mortals before, you know.” The words could sound harsh, or arrogant, but Magnus says them gently. Truthfully.

For some reason, that’s what makes Alec finally look over at him. “Do you regret it? Being with any of them?”

Magnus raises an eyebrow and smiles playfully. “Of course. Some of them were _horrific_ mistakes.” His smile softens. “But not because of their mortality.”

It seems like a good moment to laugh, like Magnus meant for him to laugh, but he can’t relax enough to let himself do that. “It’s just…” he can’t figure out the right way to articulate what he’s feeling. “I don’t want- don’t want you to have to…” He moves his hand, a vague gesture that he’d hoped would clarify things, but doesn’t do _anything_ and ends up being a useless wave.

“Alexander,” Magnus says kindly, “I feel I should point out that I’ve asked you for a date, not a lifetime commitment. Not to be pessimistic, but I don’t see much use in getting ahead of ourselves.”

Alec looks away. Looks at his own feet.

It’s true. It’s true, and polite, and not an insult at all. But for some reason, Alec feels a cold pang of disappointment.

He wants to fight Magnus’s words somehow… but he can’t. He’s right. This isn’t the epic romance that Alec’s embarrassed to realize he’s been seeing it as. Magnus is _right._ This isn’t…

It’s a date. Magnus and Alec are two people who’ve talked a bit, shared a couple drinks, and kissed once.

And Alec’s sitting here worrying about his inevitable _death._

When he thinks of it like this, it’s ridiculous. Definitely premature, and maybe a little… naive? Does Mangus think he’s naive for already thinking this far ahead? Is it stupid for him to think that things might… that they might…

“Oh. Yeah, that’s… yeah.” It’s all he can make himself say.

And it must sound just as pathetic as it feels, because Magnus shifts a bit closer to him, like he’s trying to get Alec to look at him again. “I just mean that in most of the relationships I’ve had with mortals, things ended before _that_ could even become an issue.”

The word ‘most’ sticks in Alec’s mind, but it doesn’t feel like the right time to ask about it. “So you don’t-” He feels his jaw tighten, and it’s like he has to force it open to keep talking through how fucking tense he is. “You don’t think it’s a problem?” He doesn’t want it to sound needy, like he’s fishing for Magnus to assure him that he _does_ want to go on this date, that he really likes Alec, or anything like that. But he’s afraid that’s exactly how it comes off.

Magnus takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly. “Hypothetically, it could be.” He takes another audible breath. “So, let’s talk hypothetically.”

Alec looks at him again. He makes sure his confusion is plain on his face so he doesn’t have to clarify it with words.

“Let’s say that things work out,” Magnus begins, so calm and collected and _coherent_ that Alec can’t help but be outrageously jealous. “Let’s say that we go on this date, and then another, and another, and then a lifetime goes by like that.” He leans his head against the back of the couch, face tilted so he can keep looking at Alec. “What problems would it cause?”

Alec’s stomach twists uncomfortably. He doesn’t want to just… _say_ it. Magnus is looking at him, gaze so steady it’s almost unbearable. Alec looks out the window instead, wondering why the fuck he thought he could handle a conversation like this.

“Alexander, there’s no point in talking about something if we can’t actually _talk_ about it.”

Shit. It’s a fair point. And Alec is the one who brought it up in the first place. If he can’t fucking say it, he might as well go home, because skirting around this won’t accomplish anything.

But that doesn’t mean he can bring himself to see Magnus’s face while he says it, so he keeps his eyes firmly locked on the pigeon perched on the windowsill outside. He tries to remember to breathe. “I’ll get old. And I’ll die. And you won’t.”

“Is that what bothers you?” Magnus asks, voice so gentle, so obviously trying to understand. “That you’d age while I stayed young?”

“What? No.” Alec glances at him, eyebrows tightly knit. Yeah, Magnus is being polite about all this, but Alec can’t help but be a little offended. This isn’t about Alec’s pride, or _vanity._ Alec doesn’t _have_ any vanity. Most days he can barely manage to scrape together any pride. “No, it’s…” He knows what Magnus said is wrong, but he doesn’t know what he could say that’s right. “It’s that…” His hand starts moving again, grasping at nothing, tensing and relaxing over and over. He feels like he’s floating out in the middle of nowhere. All of his prepared ideas seem so far away. “Isn’t it- isn’t it what everyone wants? To… to get to grow old together. And… die. Together. Isn’t that… what people hope for?”

Magnus makes a small, considering noise. “I suppose it is.”

Alec feels a spark of validation at the agreement, no matter how small it might be in the grand scheme of the conversation. “And we couldn’t. It’d be impossible.”

Magnus is quiet for a few moments. It’s not very long, Alec knows that. But the silence feels almost unbearably _loud_ between them. The only sound in the loft is Chairman Meow’s soft purring, which is fading in and out as he drifts through light moments of sleep.

Finally, Magnus looks back at Alec. “How many shadowhunter couples do you know who’ve grown old together?” It’s a harsh question, it’s an _awful_ question, but he asks it as kindly as possible. “How many shadowhunters do you know who’ve grown old at all?”

It’s like all the air has been sucked out of the room.

But not because it’s an unfamiliar concept. Alec’s always been strikingly aware of the dangers of his profession. His whole life, he’s known the risks, seen the danger, and… yeah. He’s seen loss. Plenty of it. More than he’d like to think about right now. And…

And it’s a valid point. He sort of can’t believe he hadn’t considered it until now. Because he’s never been particularly optimistic about his own longevity. It’s just not the example that’s been set for him. Alec doesn’t think _any_ Shadowhunters picture themselves really making it to old age. Not realistically. Nephilim are perpetually young. They get married young, they start families young… and they die young. He’s always known this. He doesn’t have any choice but to know this.

But for some reason, as soon as he started thinking about Magnus, about the prospect of being with someone immortal, he’d started thinking of his own life as expansive. His prospective life-span gained about fifty years as soon as he imagined Magnus being there to witness it. But really… that doesn’t make any sense. It’s like he became optimistic about his own life just so he could become pessimistic about spending it with Magnus.

It’s… dumb. It’s really dumb.

Shadowhunters don’t grow old together. They just don’t. He thinks about Lydia, about how young she is, how _horribly_ young she is, and she’s already lost the love of her life. He thinks about how little time they’d had. How she says it was worth it. How _certain_ she is that it was worth it. And Alec wonders if she’d ever let herself hope, beyond all reason, that she and John would have spent long lives together. That they’d die peacefully, of old age, together.

Somehow… he doubts it. Lydia’s too much of a realist for that. She must have known how small that chance was.

And now, it’s gone.

That’s just how it is for them. Alec wonders if… maybe- huh. Maybe that’s partially why he’s been thinking about this as so much more than it really is. Because while Magnus _is_ right that it’s premature to think of one date as the automatic beginning of a lifetime, to some extent… that’s just what Shadowhunters do. They make bonds like this quickly. They have to. Alec’s never thought of it like that before. And… fuck. _Fuck._ What a fucked-up way to look at life.

Alec realizes he still hasn’t answered Magnus’s question. But he thinks it was probably rhetorical anyway, so instead, he asks his own question. “But doesn’t that… I mean- Shit. Knowing that about Shadowhunters, doesn’t that just make it _worse?”_

Magnus smiles, but it’s small, and sad. “Of course it does. Honestly, it’s one of the reasons I’ve avoided getting too attached to any nephilim in the first place.”

And, well, Alec can’t quite resist tugging on that thread. “ _One_ of the reasons?”

“I know this may shock you, Alec,” Magnus says with sarcasm that’s just barely short of bitter, “but not many nephilim have wanted to associate with someone like me. Unless it was for the right price.” And he gives Alec a wry, teasing smile. And a dry chuckle.

Like it’s a joke.

Alec’s seen him do the exact same thing before. He’ll say something horrible, something true about his life that’s absolutely awful, and he’ll laugh. He’ll play it off as a joke.

And like every time before, part of Alec wants to just reach out and… shake him. Shake it out of him. Make him stop doing that. Stop treating the shitty things that have happened to him like they don’t matter, like he’s supposed to brush them off and not admit how much they suck. Like he’s not allowed to be hurt by anything. Alec _barely_ knows Mangus - especially considering the _hundreds_ of years of experiences Magnus has had - but even still, he knows that some fucking awful things have happened to him. And every time Magnus has mentioned one of those things, he’s smiled. Or laughed.

Like now. He’s literally saying that people just like Alec have been treating him like dirt for centuries. Like he’s less than a person. Like he’s some sort of monster. Even - Alec takes a deep breath to steady himself - even his own _parents_ have treated Magnus so terribly it’s unbelievable-

But that’s not the point. Yeah, Alec wants to tell Magnus that he doesn’t need to _joke_ about his pain… but he damn well knows that’s not his place to say something like that. Definitely not now. Possibly not ever.

He shakes his head again, trying to sort out his thoughts and get back on track. But after several moments of stressful silence, he realizes with a combination of dread and embarrassment, “We haven’t really… gotten anywhere.”

Magnus gives a quiet little laugh, and Alec actually feels himself smile over at him.

Which- fuck. Which is a damn nice bit of relief from the tension that’s been eating at him for  _days_ now.

“It is a rather complicated topic, Alexander.”

Alec nods. And he doesn’t know what to say next. There were so many things he’d prepared, but the conversation has already strayed so far from what he’d anticipated that he doesn’t know how to bring any of that up anymore.

Thankfully, _mercifully,_ Magnus only lets a few seconds pass in silence. “I may not be able to really understand mortal relationships, but I’ve seen plenty of them. More than I can say. Over the centuries, they haven’t really changed much. It’s always the same. Everyone goes into it hoping to die peacefully in their sleep on their hundredth birthday, with their love right by their side, like you said.” He sighs, and Alec can see out of the corner of his eye that he’s fiddling aimlessly with his fingers.

“But in the _countless_ relationships I’ve seen, I can tell you that it almost never happens like that. No matter how much people hope, they still die. And leave people behind.” He looks over at Alec. “No matter how much we like to think that we’re special, in this case, we really aren’t.” He gives Alec that same sad smile. “If we stayed together, one of us would die, and leave the other behind. And in that sense, we’re just like every other couple on earth.” One of his eyebrows quirks upward. “We just happen to have a more educated guess as to which one it will be.”

Alec looks at him.

And breathes.

It’s all he can do. He literally can’t remember how to do anything else. He just holds Magnus’s steady gaze, and sucks in breath after breath.

Because once again, Magnus is… right. Well, Alec doesn’t really think there’s a ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ answer in a situation like this, but everything Magnus is saying is making perfect sense, which is certainly more than Alec can say about himself.

But still, Magnus hasn’t really _answered-_

“Okay, so we’re not special,” Alec says, and looks away when Magnus chuckles at the bitterness in his voice. “That still doesn’t…” He closes his mouth for a moment, trying to get the words sorted into the right order. “Just because everyone else has this problem too doesn’t mean that it’s not a problem anymore. You’d still have to-”

He bites his lower lip to cut himself off. He’s not sure he’s ready to say something like this yet.

Chairman Meow stirs in his lap, uncurling from his little ball and stretching his front legs (claws getting stuck in Alec’s jeans in the process) before nestling into a different position. Alec pets him as a distraction, trying to do _anything_ to loosen his tightly-wound mental filter.

“You’d still lose me eventually.” It feels strange to say it. It leaves an odd taste in his mouth. Because it’s… it’s almost sort of _vain_ of him. Assuming that he’ll be so important to Magnus. That Magnus will care about him so much that Alec's death would be particularly painful. Painful enough that Alec is suggesting it might be better for him to not get involved in the first place. It feels unbelievably arrogant. But he can’t think of a less self-important way of talking about it, so he figures he might as well lean into it. “You’d still have to deal with my death someday. Are you alright with that?”

Magnus makes an admonishing sound. “I think the word ‘alright’ is far too flippant to be applied to something like death, Alexander. No one is ever _‘alright’_ with losing someone they care about.”

Well, great. Now Alec feels like a dick for phrasing it like that. “Th-that’s not what I meant. I meant-”

“I know,” Magnus interrupts gently. “You’re asking if I think it’s worth risking that much pain, or if I’d rather call it off right now so I can’t regret it when that pain arrives.”

Alec looks at him. Because… yeah. This is it. This is the thing that’s been eating away his mind for the past few days. The reason he can’t fall asleep. The reason every feeling of excitement and fondness he’s had for Magnus since their kiss has been tainted with tension and a growing feeling of dread. “And?” He prompts, because he doesn’t trust his voice to hold for more than that one word.

Magnus presses his lips together, like he’s thinking. Which Alec doesn’t really think is a _good_ sign, because surely he must have thought about this before, right? He can’t be just considering this for the first time.

But then, Magnus smiles. Just a little. “The way I see it, if this _does_ turn out to be something… real, then the only thing I’d regret is wasting any of the time we have together worrying about things that are out of our control.” He tilts his head, and his smile finally reaches his eyes. “Any moment we spend wondering if this is _worth_ the risk is a moment that could have been better spent together. As far as I’m concerned, if our time is limited, I’d like to enjoy it as much as possible.”

Alec's lips are parted. But he doesn’t have anything to say. He doesn’t know what he _can_ say to something like that.

Because, once again…

Magnus is making a lot of sense.

What’s seemed so daunting and impossible the past few days suddenly feels… small. Alec distantly imagines himself looking back on this as a vague memory. And he imagines just how _pissed_ he’d be at himself if he had to look back on a perfectly good week that he could have spent giddy with anticipation over their first date, but had spent absolutely miserable with worry instead.

He _should_ be focused on that. On excitement. Excitement for his first date. His first date ever, yeah, but more importantly, his first date with Magnus. On Friday. Just two days away.

It’s like the vice of stress has been released from his rib cage, and now all he feels is… butterflies.

“Though, of course, there’s still something very important that we haven’t discussed yet.” Magnus’s voice is suddenly serious, more so than it’s been the entire conversation.

Which is enough to instantly murder all the butterflies in Alec’s chest. “What?”

“What do you think? About all of this?”

“I-”

Alec closes his mouth.

Because that’s not…

That’s not the point.

“That’s… It’s not important.” Alec feels his face constrict, eyebrows furrowing and lips getting tighter. “I’m not the one… who’d have to-” His throat works like he’s speaking, but no sound comes out for a few seconds. “You’re the one who would have to lose me. And you’ve already… I don’t want you to have to lose anyone else.”

Magnus inhales sharply. “That’s…” His face starts to do something, but he seems to stop it quickly, and his expression stays neutral. “That’s very… sweet of you, Alexander. It really is.” He smiles. In that… way. The same way he’d smiled when Alec asked him out. Small, and gentle, but so unbearably sincere. “But you’re as much a part of this as I am. Your opinion is just as important as mine. So. What do you think?”

A million thoughts flood Alec all at once. How excited he is about their date. How hopeful he is that this will work. How Magnus makes him feel so valued, and important, in a way he’s never felt before. How he wants to tell Magnus everything because Magnus _listens_ to him. How beautiful Magnus is, always, but particularly right now, when he smiles like that. How Alec’s barely gone thirty seconds without thinking about their kiss since the moment it happened. How he can still feel it on his lips when he concentrates. How much he wants to kiss him again. How Magnus makes him happy and excited and _hopeful,_ and Alec can’t remember the last time he felt any of those things, much less all of them at once.

So he opens his mouth, ready to let all of this spill out of him.

“I like you.”

Oh.

Well, it’s hardly what he was expecting. But he supposes it’s a decent summary. Still, he was hoping he might be a touch more eloquent.

But Magnus…

Magnus lights up. His eyes sparkle. His smile spreads. He looks… thrilled. In a quiet sort of way. “That’s certainly a relief. Because I like you too.”

Alec flushes. His heart speeds up, but in an uneven flip-flop instead of a steady beat. It’s a little harder to breathe. And the butterflies are back.

Because no one’s ever… said something like that to him. Even though Magnus has made his intentions pretty damn obvious after all this time, this is still the first time he’s… admitted it like that. Straightforward and unambiguous and so, so certain.

He likes Alec.

And Alec likes him.

And on Friday, they’re going on a date.

And this… Alec thinks this might just work after all.

Alec’s aware that he’s gawking a little, but he can’t make himself stop. His face is still too hot. His heart is still racing. And they’re just looking at each other. Second after second. It’s a moment between them that just keeps stretching, and it never gets any less thrilling.

Finally, Magnus breaks the silence. “You know,” his smile twists into a smirk, “when you mentioned Camille, I was worried for a moment that you were going to bring up that horrifically _non-_ consensual kiss.”

Alec chokes. He thinks it was supposed to be a laugh, but it definitely just sounded like choking. “No,” he says as firmly as he can while his nerves are all spasming at once. “No, I know that was… um… that didn’t- it, it was-” He knows what he wants to say, but just _thinking_ it makes his already-burning face heat up even more, until it’s so hot that his cheeks are absolutely aching. He’s probably never been this red in his life. But he wants to say this, so he swallows, and forces himself to hold Magnus’s gaze. “I… know you didn’t want that. ‘Cause I… uh, I know what it looks like when you _do_ want someone to kiss you. And that wasn’t it.”

It feels bold. And flirtatious. And neither of those words describe how Alec usually is around Magnus. And for some reason, once he gets the words out, his heart just beats _harder._

But Magnus _grins_ at him, open-mouthed and maybe a little stunned. “Well… You’re certainly not wrong.” His eyes flicker, like there’s a little flash of light behind them. He looks playful, and confident, and so at ease that it makes Alec feel more comfortable just by looking at him. “It’s hardly _my_ fault that people keep kissing me while I’m just standing there, minding my own business.”

Alec laughs at that, _really_ laughs, and it feels so good. Magnus doesn’t laugh, but he looks… pleased. Like he’s glad he made Alec laugh. It’s…

It doesn’t make sense.

And Alec-

Alec gets an idea.

He’s not sure it’ll work, and knowing him, he’ll probably just end up embarrassing himself horribly, but…

“Someone should, ah…” Alec's tongue darts out against his lower lip. “Someone should really let _you_ initiate a kiss sometime.”

It sounded a lot better in his head. Flirtier and smoother and more intentional. He’s not sure if it even made any sense the way he said it-

Magnus’s smile fades. Which cannot be a good sign.

Shit. Shit shit _shit._ Dammit. How can he fix this? Dammit. Fuck.

Magnus doesn’t move. Or say anything. Or do anything at all. Except… after a few seconds, his eyes flick down.

To Alec’s lips.

Oh.

Magnus shifts. It’s barely anything, but in the intense stillness it feels unbelievably noticeable. He scoots the tiniest bit on the floor, still sitting against the back of the couch, but now he’s…

He’s closer to Alec.

They were close to begin with, just a couple inches of hardwood floor between them. But now it’s almost nothing. There must be less than a centimeter between their stretched-out legs. Alec can feel the heat of Magnus’s body seep through his jeans.

“Yes,” Magnus says, and it’s basically just a whisper, because they’re close enough that Alec can still hear it, “I think that’d be quite nice.”

_Oh._

Magnus is smiling again. That little smile. And he slowly, carefully brings up one of his hands. He brushes the backs of his fingers against Alec’s jaw (which inexplicably makes liquid heat pool in Alec’s gut), then gently cradles Alec’s burning cheek against his palm.

It’s so… tender. Alec thinks he might cry, or float out of his skin, or _something,_ something more than just sit here and feel this much. How can one person handle feeling so much?

And Magnus starts moving in toward him. Bringing his face closer to Alec’s.

It’s too much.

They didn’t have this last time. Then, Alec didn’t even have time to realize that he’d worked up the courage to kiss Magnus until he was already doing it. It was sudden, and intense, and so _necessary._ But that meant there wasn’t this sort of… buildup. Anticipation. He didn’t get to watch Magnus’s lips get closer and closer to his, to feel Magnus’s breath against his face before anything else. He sees Magnus’s lips part, and that’s it, he has to close his eyes, he can’t see any more. His heart is still racing and his lungs are aching for the breaths he can’t take and there’s something in his chest that feels just about ready to explode-

Magnus’s lips touch his.

And everything settles.

His heart stops racing. His face isn’t burning anymore. The fire in his chest cools into a soft warmth. For the first time in days, his mind shuts up. Everything slows, and calms down, and it’s just…

It’s just a kiss. A soft, tender, _achingly_ sweet kiss.

Magnus’s hand slowly trails a little further up Alec’s cheek, until his fingers can brush through the hair behind his ear. But apart from that, it’s stationary. Alec can feel the slick skin on the inside of Magnus’s lip against his. He can feel Magnus slowly breathe out his nose, feel it warm against his face.

Alec can’t remember the last time he felt this… nice. Calm and happy and just _good-_

Magnus breaks the kiss, pulling back just far enough to separate their lips.

Alec waits breathlessly for him to come back in, to change the angle and kiss him again, maybe deeper this time-

Magnus pulls back further. Far enough that Alec knows he isn’t going to move in again.

No, no no no _please_ not yet.

Without opening his eyes, Alec follows him. Chases after his lips, tries to get another kiss, to make sure Magnus understands how much he wants this. Understands that Alec could have spent all day like this. Fuck his responsibilities. Fuck the Institute. Fuck the meeting that he’s already going to be late for. Fuck it all, he just wants to kiss Magnus-

He moves far enough to wake up Chairman Meow.

Alec had completely forgotten that the cat was still sleeping in his lap. But moving toward Magnus shifts him far enough to be reminded quite _vividly,_ by four sets of claws digging through his jeans and right into his thighs.

“Fuck!” Alec’s eyes snap open and he frantically tries to nudge the Chairman away from him without making him claw _harder._ It takes a few moments of struggling before the Chairman gives a dramatically long hiss and basically sprints away from Alec, disappearing around the couch and running off into the loft.

It’s like waking up from a dream. Or whiplash. Alec can’t quite figure out where he is, or what’s happening.

But Magnus is laughing. “I always knew that cat would end up being a _menace.”_

Alec’s brain scrambles to supply a line that would be sufficient to get Magnus to kiss him again, something that could bring back the moment.

It’s too late. Magnus is already getting to his feet, with a grace that just isn’t fair. He holds out a hand to help Alec up…

And Alec’s sure he’s just imagining the spark of heat he feels when their hands touch.

“Now, I’m assuming a busy man like you has things to attend to today? An Institute to run, or something like that?” Magnus teases with a warm smile.

At first, Alec is too focused on standing to be able to respond. Because his legs aren’t working right. His knees are tingling, like they’re gonna give out. He writes it off as the result of having a cat sleep on his lap for so long (though the Chairman barely weighs anything).

“Um,” he begins, and rolls his eyes at his own lack of eloquence. “Yeah. I… there’s a meeting. I should probably…”

Magnus is already walking toward the door. And Alec’s following him, without even thinking about it. Alec just automatically followed him when he started moving. Gravitating toward him. Wanting to stay in his space.

Magnus opens the door for him, but doesn’t step aside to let him out right away. “I hope this… helped. With what you were worrying about.”

And he looks so sincere. He means it, he really _means_ it. It's almost like he’s nervous about what Alec will say.

Alec gives him the biggest smile he can manage, though it’s pitifully small considering everything he’s feeling. “Yeah. I… It… It helped.”

“I’m glad.” Magnus says… with that smile again. That little smile.

It’s too much. Before Alec can think any better of it, he ducks down and presses his lips to Magnus’s cheek. Lightly. Enough to feel like a sufficient goodbye. “So I’ll… um. I’ll see you Friday?” The butterflies are back, swarming in his chest.

Magnus is grinning at him. Warm and open and excited. “I can hardly wait.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My kink is Magnus and Alec talking about their problems before they can become problems, so I was thrilled by the chance to have them talk about The Immortality Thing right from the start. Get that squared away.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is dumb.”  
> Magnus makes several condescending ‘tsk’ noises with his tongue. “Alexander, that’s not a very good attitude, now is it?”

“This is dumb.”

Magnus makes several condescending ‘tsk’ noises with his tongue. “Alexander, that’s not a very good attitude, now is it?”

Alec plasters on a glaringly fake smile. “This is dumb!” he repeats, but much more energetically.

Magnus bats lightly at Alec’s shoulder with the back of his hand, giving him an _extremely_ unimpressed look. “Unfortunately, your opinion is irrelevant at the moment.”

He waves his hand in a blur of elegant and intricate circles, and all of the furniture in the loft instantly scoots back to the walls. A blue glow gathers in Magnus’s palm, which he aims at the stereo system he’s just backed up against the windows. The stereo vanishes, and with a briefly _blinding_ flash of sparks, it’s replaced by an old record player. A very old record player. Alec has no idea how music players have progressed over time, but he thinks this thing has to be at _least_ fifty years old. Maybe a hundred?

The sunlight pouring in through the windows catches on a little fleck of something metallic on the corner of the record player. Alec doesn’t have to get a closer look to know what it is. Magnus’s initials, or possibly his full name, engraved in gold. Because Magnus _loves_ putting his name on things. Alec had asked him about it once, and he’d said that it’s a sort of… time-related bragging right. Magnus likes finding things that he assumes he can keep for a while, so he can still have it and use it, years and decades and centuries later. And he likes knowing and _acknowledging_ that those thing have always been his. Like it’s… proof. Proof that he didn’t find his pocket watch at an antique store last week, proof that he’s had it since 1726. Alec’s noticed it on most of the older stuff Magnus still keeps, but it’s also on some new things (even though Magnus has admitted how unlikely it is that his cell phone will still be functional in five years, much less five hundred). Alec thinks it must be kind of fun, in a way. Getting new possessions and trying to guess which ones will last, which ones will become priceless antiques - even though he knows Magnus would never sell anything once he’s put his name on it.

Alec wonders if Magnus had been particularly optimistic about this record player staying with him all this time, or if he’s surprised that it still works. Alec can’t imagine singling out _any_ modern object and saying ‘this’ll still be good in the year 3050’. He wonders if it was easier to think that in 19-something, whenever Magnus bought this.

Alec’s pulled out of his thoughts by another spark of blue, which fills the loft with the sound of static. It crackles and groans for a few moments before gradually smoothing out…

Jazz. Slow, bluesy jazz starts playing. An easy and almost… relaxing sort of sound. Every now and then, that static will crinkle the music again, but for the most part, the sound is so clear and loud that Alec has to wonder if this is _really_ the record player, or if Magnus is giving it some help. He glances over at him to see if there’s any sign of magic-

Magnus is looking at him. Seriously. Expectantly.

Shit.

“Mags, really, I don’t want-”

“This isn’t about what you _want,_ Alexander. This is a necessity.”

Alec rolls his eyes. “Come on. That’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

Magnus moves in toward him, giving minuscule shakes of his head. “Luke and Jocelyn’s wedding is in _three days._ I’ve let you put this off long enough. We’re running out of time.” Alec tries to take a step back, but Magnus grabs his arm and holds him in place. “This is happening, no matter what. You can fight all you want, but that’ll just make it more difficult. If you _cooperate_ it’ll be over before you know it.”

“By the Angel, do you realize how fucked up that sounds? ‘Don’t struggle, just let it happen’?”

“Yes, and if I were talking about something else, it’d be extremely problematic of me.” Magnus takes Alec’s left hand in his right and lifts it up, holding it at shoulder-height next to them. “But I’m not. I’m talking about _dancing.”_ He takes Alec’s other hand and maneuvers it so it’s resting high on Magnus’s back. “So lie back, and think of Idris.” He smiles, and it’s infuriatingly playful.

Alec grits his teeth. He glances over to their joined hands, feels where his hand is splayed on Magnus’s back, and where Magnus’s hand is resting in the same place on Alec’s back. Dammit, they’re just _standing_ in a dance-y position, and he already feels stupid. He puts on his most disagreeable face. “I don’t consent to this. I’m gonna look like an idiot.”

And Magnus just laughs at him. Quiet, but still rude, goddammit. “Alec, it’s hardly _my_ fault that you don’t know this basic human skill. And we’re doing this right now precisely so you _won’t_ look like an idiot at the wedding.”

Alec opens his mouth to snap out whatever comeback he thinks of first-

But Magnus stops him before he can start. “Alright. First thing’s first: The Waltz.”

Alec raises an eyebrow and glances over to the record player, which is still playing jazz. “This is waltz music?”

“Ooooh,” Magnus coos sarcastically, “You’re suddenly an expert, are you?”

Alec wants to protest, but… fuck. It’s a fair point.

Magnus gives him a wry smile. “I like it. And it’s got the right beat, which is all that matters.” He says it with a sort of finality that lets Alec know that the stalling is over, and this is really going to happen.

At first, it’s every bit as horrible as Alec has been dreading. Magnus tugs Alec where he needs to go, nudges which foot is supposed to move at what time, and tries to make things as clear as possible. And it’s clunky and awful and Alec feels like Godzilla crushing skyscrapers under his feet as he makes these random, harsh steps that feel less like ‘dancing’ than anything he's ever done.

But Magnus is nothing if not persistent, and he just keeps guiding Alec through it, counting out the _unbearably_ slow beat and…

Huh.

After the explanations are done, and Alec can look down and actually _see_ the way his feet are supposed to be moving it’s… yeah. It’s actually pretty… simple. Because it’s just a pattern. A certain way he’s supposed to be stepping, in a certain order. It’s repetitive. It’s literally just a box, a three-step box. He just has to follow that pattern. And that’s…

That’s something he can pick up instantly. Make his body move a certain way, in a certain pattern? Yeah, that’s something he’s been doing his entire fucking life. It’s like fighting, in a weird way.

That being said, he doesn’t feel any less ridiculous. Because even if he masters the _concept_ of what he’s supposed to be doing, and even if it only takes him a minute or two to be completely certain in his steps…

He still feels like Godzilla.

He’s just a goddamn giant, with long, thick limbs and no poise to speak of. And it certainly doesn’t help that he’s dancing with _Magnus,_ the most graceful person Alec’s ever met. Even tethered to a giant robot like Alec, Magnus seems completely at ease, and his steps actually look like _dancing_ even though he’s doing the exact same thing that Alec is making look like a military march.

It’s not… right. Alec feels so goddamn stupid and _looks_ so goddamn stupid and the idea of looking this stupid with Magnus just feels wrong because he knows he’s making Magnus look stupid too and that thought is unbearable-

“Maybe I just won’t dance at the wedding,” Alec says in a rushed jumble, as soon as he remembers how to make his mouth work.

Magnus doesn’t even pause his fluid movements. “Nonsense. There are going to be several important downworlders there. What are they going to think if they find out I’ve been dating a shadowhunter for five whole months and haven’t even been able to teach him any manners?” He’s smiling down at their feet. “Though I suppose I don’t know many nephilim traditions. Do you even dance at weddings, or do you all go into the reception hall and just… fight each other?”

Alec rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been to a wedding.”

Magnus chokes on a laugh that he clearly tried to smother, but it snorts out through his nose anyway.

And Alec immediately turns bright red. “That does _not_ count.” He looks up at Magnus… and sees him trying to contain more giggles. “Fine! I’ve never been to a wedding that actually made it to the reception.”

Magnus gets himself under control, but he’s still smiling by the time he looks up. “I have to ask, how exactly were you planning on surviving your first dance as a married man?”

Alec didn’t think he could blush any harder, but apparently he was wrong. He’s squeezing Magnus’s hand too hard. His stomach feels like it’s made of lead. “Obviously I didn’t think that far ahead. Believe it or not, there were more _important_ things to deal with at the time.” He looks back down at their feet, watching himself make the same stiff, mechanical square over and over again. “Besides, Lydia knows what she’s doing. I’m sure she could have dragged me through it.”

“Mm, you’re such a romantic,” Magnus says, and it’s teasing, but it’s also… kinda fond. It makes Alec’s stomach twist with something that _isn’t_ embarrassment.

But the moment passes quickly, because the song on the record player circles back to the chorus, and it makes Magnus perk up a bit. “Alright, I think you’re ready for full speed.”

Alec didn’t realize there were _speed_ options in waltzing, but he supposes they are moving horrifically slowly.

Magnus counts them in, gives Alec a gentle shove to start things off-

And suddenly they’re stepping twice as fast, and Magnus’s gently muttered ‘one… two… three… one… two… three…’ becomes ‘ _one_ -two-three, _one-_ two-three’ and Alec feels a brief flicker of panic that he’s going to trip over his own feet and send them both to the floor…

But he doesn’t. Actually, it’s… easier like this. He’d already had the steps down, so speeding them up doesn’t throw him off, it just makes things… smoother. It’s not a slow, clunky march anymore. It’s a light, fluid sweep of movement. Alec has to keep all his weight on the balls of his feet to keep up, and that means he doesn’t feel like he’s stomping like he had been when it was so slow. He suddenly understands why Magnus insisted that they do this barefoot, instead of letting Alec wear his heavy boots.

Once he’s sure he’s stable in the new rhythm, he glances up at Magnus.

And Magnus is smiling at him. In a way that’s somehow both pleased with Alec, and pleased with himself. It’s equally proud and smug. Only Magnus Bane could pull off a look like this. “See? Not so horrible, is it?”

Alec wants to roll his eyes, or sigh, or say something snarky… But it’s hard to be bitter when Magnus is looking at him with this much enjoyment. “It’s…” He pulls his lower lip between his teeth for a moment. “It’s not _completely_ horrible.”

Magnus takes a breath like he’s going to respond, but the song ends before he can speak. Brass and piano fill the loft in a drawn-out, triumphant finish. And there’s a few seconds of that static sound again before the next song starts up.

This one has a pretty similar tempo, so Magnus only gives Alec a moment to hear it before starting their dance again. It’s still the same fast, smooth pattern. And this time, Magnus starts moving them a bit, gradually staggering their steps so their stagnant little box starts to spin. It makes the strictly square shape skew until it’s basically gone, but to Alec’s surprise, it’s still easy to keep up with the steps. And now, it just feels even more fluid. Because they’re not planted in one place. They’re swooping across the floor, spinning through the loft with light little steps.

Yeah. This is dancing. Alec can… Alec can understand why someone would want to do this.

Unlike the last song - which was just a band - this one gets through about half a minute of orchestration, and then a woman starts singing. She’s got a rich voice, sort of… smokey? Can a voice be smokey? Does that make sense? Alec thinks it sounds smokey.

About halfway through the first verse, the tune starts nagging at the back of his mind. Like he knows it. Or like he’s… supposed to know it. It feels vaguely like one of those famous songs that Alec knows _most_ people know (if not from actual musical knowledge, then at least from hearing it in a commercial for fancy jewelry or something). Magnus is humming along to it, looking down at their feet even though he doesn’t need to. By the time it gets to the chorus, Alec has to ask, “Who’s singing?”

Magnus’s face twitches, like he wasn’t expecting that question. He keeps his eyes locked on their feet, and he slowly starts to smile. But it looks wistful, and almost sad. “An old friend.”

Oh.

Alec’s heard that tone before. And seen that sad smile. He knows what it means.

Usually, the smile doesn’t last long. Usually Magnus covers it with a sincere grin, and goes into a bit more detail. Tells Alec who the person is, when he knew them, _something_ about their history. But now… he’s not saying anything. He just keeps that sad smile aimed at their feet. After a moment, he starts humming along to the song again.

Alec’s never seen this happen before. Magnus didn’t even tell him her name. That’s… This isn’t what Alec is used to. He wonders if it means something.

Not knowing what else to do, but desperate to do _something,_ he squeezes Magnus’s hand. Gently.

Magnus finally looks up at him again. Alec does his best to give him a comforting smile… And Magnus smiles right back at him.

They keep dancing. Alec hadn’t even realized that they were still going, that his feet were still cooperating without him having to think about it. But they’re still twirling around the loft, easy and graceful.

Huh. Graceful.

That’s… new. For him.

Magnus is still humming along with the singer, and the… whatever this mood is, it hasn’t quite lifted.

So Alec tries changing the subject. It’s not really his strong suit, but it’s worth a shot. “I, um. I’ve never really pictured you knowing how to waltz.” It feels a little forced, a bit awkward, but it’s at least the truth. “It’s so… formal. I know you dance, but I always thought it was just that… club dancing stuff. Whatever it’s called. Is there a name for that?”

Something must have worked, because Magnus gives him a teasing smirk. “Yes, it’s called ‘club dancing’.”

Alec rolls his eyes, and intentionally fucks up the pattern of his steps just to throw Magnus off.

But _of course_ Magnus recovers their rhythm beautifully, without faltering at all, laughing as he does it. He pauses the waltz suddenly, and holds up their joined hands. He tugs at Alec’s arm a few times until he gets the idea-

“No, Mags.”

Magnus just tugs harder.

Alec gives the most exasperated sigh he can possibly manage, and begrudgingly lets Magnus twirl him around under his raised arm. He’s forced to duck a ridiculous amount to compensate for their height difference, which gets rid of whatever shred of dignity he’d had left.

When he’s spun all the way around and is facing Magnus again, he firmly lowers their joined hands back to regular dance height, making it clear that that’s _not_ going to happen again.

Magnus pouts dramatically, but starts up the dance again without any fuss. “You have to remember, Alexander, that when I attended my first major social event, waltzing was the hot new dance. It was still considered scandalous in some places.”

Alec lets out a surprised laugh. His instinct is that Magnus must be joking, because… he’s never thought of waltzing being ‘new’. It’s a ridiculous thought. Someone going to a party and saying ‘Hey guys check out this new dance I just made up’ and _waltzing._ Yeah, he knows that it obviously didn’t just come into existence, but it’s bizarre to think that Magnus may have been alive before the goddamn waltz was invented.

“You’re… you’re _really_ old,” Alec says with a laugh. He has no fucking clue when waltzing first showed up, but he knows it sure as hell wasn’t recent.

Magnus sighs. “You sure know how to flatter a guy.”

That just makes Alec laugh harder. But it’s difficult to dance like that, so he tries to rein himself in. “People really thought waltzing was scandalous?” He’s not sure if that’s something he believes, or if it’s another one of those lies Magnus tells just to fuck with people’s suspension of disbelief. This could be ‘I invented the saxophone’ all over again.

But Magnus looks perfectly sincere. “Of course they did. An excuse to stand so close to someone, to press right against them and dance without any distance whatsoever? And right in _public,_ at respectable events?” He shakes his head, and there’s a playful sparkle in his eyes. “People were absolutely outraged, darling. Waltzing was downright _sinful.”_

Alec flushes under the heat of Magnus’s gaze. And he realizes that - while there’s still a good few inches of space between them - they _are_ standing very close. Holding hands. Touching each other’s backs (and Alec knows that with a woman, it’d be her waist), looking into each other’s eyes without ever having to look away, spinning dizzily through the room…

And, yeah. Okay. He can understand how this could be… something. Having a perfectly acceptable excuse to take someone and do _this_ with them for hours on end…

Alec swallows. Because he can easily picture himself meeting Magnus at some lavish ball, dancing with him for a while… and letting Magnus drag him away to do whatever he wanted with him. Alec wonders just how many people Magnus has reduced to putty with one well-executed waltz.

Hell, Magnus might be the reason people started thinking waltzing was scandalous in the first place. It was probably a perfectly innocent dance until he started doing it.

The song slows to an end, and Alec feels completely disoriented. They’ve been keeping up a good pace for several minutes now, so he’s starting to get a little winded. And now, his mouth is a little dry. And his heart is beating a little faster than it should. And his knees are a little weak.

And Magnus is just smirking at him.

Which is not fair.

The next song starts up, a little livelier, with a bit of swing. It’s the same woman singing, but this time Magnus looks pleased by the sound of her voice.

However, Alec tries to process the _one-_ two-three beat of waltzing in the rhythm of this new song and it… doesn’t work. It doesn’t fit.

But Magnus isn’t fazed by it. He just pulls Alec a little closer, lets his hand slip a little further down Alec’s back, and starts moving with the music. It isn’t steps, it isn’t any sort of structured _dance,_ it’s just swaying with the beat. Magnus moves his weight from one foot to the other, and occasionally takes a real step so he can slowly spin them around.

Alec’s body is terribly confused at first, after the strict form of waltzing. But once he manages to relax, it’s… nice. Easy. Casual and comfortable.

“You look surprised,” Magnus comments after almost a minute of quiet dancing.

Alec doesn’t want to admit that he never thought he’d be able to feel this graceful, this comfortable with something so elegant, so instead he says “Well, yeah. Catarina told me you’re a shitty dancer. I’m surprised that she’s wrong for once.”

Magnus huffs out a laugh, like he’s equally amused and outraged. “Catarina hasn’t seen me dance since the nineteenth century. She has no right to judge.” He gives Alec a secretive smile. “She hasn’t even seen me tap.”

Alec perks up instantly, bright and eager. “You tap dance?”

“When you’ve been around four hundred years, you need to find a hobby or two.” Magnus intensifies their swaying a bit, spinning them in faster circles. “When that craze took off I knew I absolutely _had_ to master it.” He smirks. “And it had absolutely _nothing_ to do with a particular fondness for Gene Kelly…”

Alec knows who that is only because of the _extensive_ collection of his movies that Magnus keeps displayed next to the tv. But hearing Magnus say it in that particular tone, he starts to wonder just how far that 'fondness' extended…

Magnus reads Alec’s face, and rolls his eyes. “If only, darling. If only,” he sighs.

And it’s probably not the appropriate reaction, but Alec laughs. Surprisingly hard. And he doesn’t really know why. Maybe because it’s funny to think that at some point in history, Magnus Bane wanted to bang someone and _didn’t_ get to bang them. It’s funny to know that even Magnus doesn’t always get what he wants.

Magnus must not agree, because in retaliation, he forces Alec into another ridiculous twirl. But it feels significantly less undignified with the livelier music, so Alec doesn’t actually mind when Magnus immediately twirls him the other way.

“Well,” Magnus says with a great deal of dignity as he spins Alec away from him before tugging back in close, “it didn’t stop me from learning all of his most impressive dances. Including the one on roller skates.”

Alec just laughs harder, because that’s definitely something he _has_ to see.

The music’s picked up speed over the course of the song, and by now it’s fast and a little chaotic and _intensely_ jazzy. Magnus gets a little over-ambitious and gradually starts trying to guide Alec through various intricate spinny moves that Alec thinks are probably considered swing dancing? Whatever it is, it’s far beyond his skill level, and all he can do is helplessly flail along as Magnus pushes and pulls and nudges and tugs him all across the loft. But however graceless and awkward it feels, it’s also pretty…

Fun.

Alec stumbles his way through twirls and spins that he doesn’t understand at all, letting himself be guided but never actually knowing what he’s supposed to be doing. And it’s fun. It’s stupidly fun.

Magnus sometimes tries to _guide_ him a little better, telling him “left arm up” or “twist the other way”, but for the most part he just does whatever the fuck he wants and lets Alec bumble along after him, getting caught in tangled-up arms and tripping over his own feet. But judging by Magnus’s wide grin, he doesn’t mind having such a hapless dance partner. And it doesn’t take long for Alec to start laughing so hard that he can barely breathe, so he guesses he can’t complain either.

This song finishes suddenly, leaving Alec struggling to keep his balance as the music cuts out, but Magnus anticipates it well enough to steady him. The next song is slow, even slower than their first half-timed waltz. The woman starts singing again, and it sounds like it’s going to be a sweet, crooning love song.

They’re already standing pretty close, but Magnus gently pulls Alec in until they’re completely pressed together. Apparently, there’s not much formal _dancing_ to be done to music like this, because Magnus just sways, so subtly that it’s almost imperceptible. Their feet don’t really move, they just shuffle a bit against the floor with the slow, steady beat.

After a few moments, Magnus tucks his face in the crook of Alec’s neck. It’s enough to make Alec’s heart race (in a way that has nothing to do with the vigorous exercise of their last dance). Their stance has relaxed, so they’re holding their still-joined hands close to their bodies, elbows brushing every time they move. Alec’s other hand is still on the small of Magnus’s back, but Magnus’s has slipped down to Alec’s waist. And he’s slowly starting to slip it under the hem of Alec’s t-shirt. Alec has actually worked up a thin sheen of sweat over the past twenty minutes or so, but Magnus obviously doesn’t care.

And his hand is so _warm_ against Alec’s side, soft and gentle, and even though it’s barely anything, Alec still hears a little whimper get stuck in his throat. Because the mood has shifted so goddamn quickly. Two seconds ago he was careening through the living room, laughing his ass off, and now…

All he can feel is Magnus’s steady breath on his neck. And the warmth of Magnus’s hands, both the one on his waist and the one that’s in Alec’s loose grip. And his own heart, still pounding away furiously even though they’re practically standing still.

This doesn’t really feel like ‘dancing’ at all. It’s just a… slightly shifting hug. Yeah, it’s just a hug. A really, _really_ nice hug.

Alec tilts his head a bit, nuzzling his cheek against Magnus’s temple. And he feels a little spark of _something_ when Magnus’s response is to hum happily, and squeeze his hand. It’s tender and warm and Alec’s breath hitches in his throat because it suddenly feels like his heart’s gonna give out on him.

It’s only been a few days. Less than a week. Since Alec finally told Magnus that he loves him. And Magnus said the same. Just thinking about it is still enough to make Alec’s stomach twist and flutter, like the nerves he’d felt right before he said it, but so much nicer.

Having said it - and continuing to say it, probably more frequently than is strictly necessary - hasn’t really changed anything. Alec wasn’t really expecting that it _would,_ but it’s still a relief to know that Alec didn’t accidentally fuck up the entire dynamic of their relationship by being the first one to say it. Except…

Alec’s probably imagining it. But it almost feels like Magnus is more… affectionate now. Not that he wasn’t _plenty_ affectionate with Alec before - because smothering Alec with constant affection is kind of Magnus’s thing - but it feels a little… different now. It’s more open, in a way. He doubts that Magnus had been really holding back before they’d said ‘love’, but now it’s like… he doesn’t _need_ to hold back. It’s like everything runs a little deeper. Every touch seems more intentional. He’s added ‘my love’ to his list of Alec’s pet names. Even his silly displays of affection (like when he’ll hold Alec down first thing in the morning and peck every damn inch of his face with kisses before he’ll let him get out of bed, or when he’ll take his eyeliner and doodle hearts on Alec’s arm while they’re doing their makeup) feel like they have more meaning now.

It’s like Magnus was afraid of showing Alec too much, of making his feelings too obvious, before they’d said it. And now it’s just… an onslaught. Alec can barely believe he’d worried that Magnus might not love him back, because in the past few days he’s been doing a damn good job of making it perfectly clear. Even the sex is-

Alec blushes at his own goddamn train of thought. And his arm instinctively tightens his hold on Magnus.

Sex is… different now. Not in a bad way. Hell, in the furthest thing possible from a _bad_ way. But Alec had no way of anticipating how it would change. Of course he didn’t. He couldn’t have guessed how indescribable it feels to have Magnus whisper “I love you, angel” into his ear, right as he starts to come. To not have to worry about accidentally saying “I love you” instead of “I love your mouth” when Magnus is swallowing around his cock… getting to openly say “I love you” and feeling Magnus moan around him because of it…

Fuck.

Alec needs to think about something else.

Because these images, combined with how _close_ they’re pressed together, and how nice it feels to have Magnus hum quietly against his neck, and how much Alec loves him, and how he knows that Magnus loves him too…

The sunlight suddenly feels too hot on his skin. It’s like he’s burning up. Because Alec just loves him so much and he can’t keep this much love stuck in his chest, he has to let some of it out, has to show Magnus, to make him understand, and he wants him so much, he wants him right now, he wants Magnus inside him, he wants Magnus to make love to him-

Oh. Huh. This again.

That still hasn’t… happened yet. Alec thinks they must have done literally _everything else_ imaginable by now, but they still haven’t done that. Alec had been so sure, for such a long time, that it was just because he didn’t want to yet. But now they’ve been together for five months and Alec’s spent the last one more or less _desperate_ for Magnus to make love to him. It had started as a nagging desire whenever they had sex, but then it started spreading into completely non-sexual moments, and by now he’s perpetually a heartbeat away from getting on his knees and begging for it.

But he still hasn’t asked.

And by this point, he has no fucking clue why. He just… hasn’t. It’s like he forgets about it whenever they’re having sex and then it’s like ‘whoops we’re already finished oh well’ and he just doesn’t fucking understand why he can’t fucking ask his fucking boyfriend to fuck him.

Magnus snuggles a little closer to him, and- _shit._ He presses his mouth to Alec’s neck, lips parted just enough to feel the tiniest bit wet.

Maybe…

Maybe now?

He thinks he could do it now. Say it. Say ‘I want you to make love to me.’ It’s simple. Easy. And he wants it so bad he can’t stand it.

He takes a breath.

The song ends. And Magnus slowly pulls away from him.

Alec’s throat closes up.

Magnus smiles at him. And pulls a little further back, like he might actually take a step away. “Well, I think you’ll be perfectly capable of surviving the wedding reception now,” he says, so much more casually than Alec had thought was possible in this situation. “Should we call it a day? Finally put you out of your misery, since dancing is _so_ awful?” And there’s a little hint of playfulness in his smile, like maybe, _maybe_ he knows what’s going through Alec’s brain.

Well, damn. Alec hopes he’s just offering because the song is over, and not because Alec is getting noticeably hard in his jeans.

It’s the perfect opportunity.  A slow, romantic dance. An afternoon ahead of them with nothing else to do. Sunlight streaming in through the windows. It’s downright idyllic.

But…

Alec can’t do it.

He can’t even try to get the words out. He knows it’s not gonna happen.

But it’s not because he doesn’t want to ask. He does. He knows he does. It’s because… this moment is almost… _too_ nice. He doesn’t want to break it, even for something like that. The fun, and the intimacy. He wants to do whatever he can to keep it going. Just like this.

Soon. He thinks it’ll be soon. But not right now.

Right now, they’re dancing.

“Actually, I… uh.” Alec has to swallow his pride, but it’s easier than he expected. “I wouldn’t mind… learning another dance?”

Magnus’s eyebrows shoot up. He looks momentarily stunned. Alec almost thinks he’s gonna say no, just because of how fucking surprised he looks.

But another song starts up, loud and brassy.

And Magnus smiles. With a dark flicker of mischief in his eyes. He pulls Alec in close again, but gets their arms in a more formal position, their joined hands stretched straight out to the side.

“Alright. The Tango.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things got pretty heavy last time, so I thought I'd pick a prompt that's basically an excuse for shameless fluff. I'll always use any opportunity to make people think about Magnus Bane tap dancing (because few things in this world are more important to me than that). 
> 
> If you haven't seen it, [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KgAmXb5UZlY) is Gene Kelly tap dancing on roller skates. And no one will ever convince me that Magnus can't do the entire dance break flawlessly.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec can’t remember the last time he was this angry.  
> And it’s because of _Magnus._ He’s never been angry at Magnus before. Not like this.  
>  He takes another deep breath. Because that’s not fair. He’s not angry. He’s just… annoyed. Yeah. He’s annoyed.  
> He’s really goddamn fucking annoyed.

Alec’s just about ready to strangle something.

He glances down at the washcloth balled up in his hand.

Good enough.

He holds it over the sink and squeezes as hard as he fucking can, twisting his hands and wringing out the excess water until his arms ache. It doesn’t _really_ feel like strangling something, but it’s still a little satisfying to throw it into the sink with a harsh, wet _plop_ that’s almost deafening in the quiet loft.

His hands are still twitching, still tensing and flexing with the need to release some of this frustration before he fucking explodes. Godfuckingdammit, why doesn’t Magnus have a goddamn punching bag?

Probably because that would be _helpful_ to Alec, and Magnus sure as fuck can’t be bothered to care about something like that.

That’s-

Fuck.

That’s not fair. Alec knows that’s not fair. He knows he’s not going to accomplish anything by getting this upset.

He rests his hands on the edge of the kitchen sink, leans over it heavily, and takes a deep breath. He lets it out slowly through his nose, trying to get his heart to stop fucking racing. But despite his best efforts to calm himself down, his hands still start gripping the sink so hard that it hurts his fingers.

Alec can’t remember the last time he was this angry.

And it’s because of _Magnus._ He’s never been angry at Magnus before. Not like this.

He takes another deep breath. Because that’s still not fair. He’s not angry. He’s just… annoyed. Yeah. He’s annoyed.

He’s really goddamn fucking annoyed.

It feels like his fingernails are about to snap off. He needs something else to do with his hands. But the dishes have been done for over an hour now. And he’s scrubbed the entire fucking kitchen. He even cleaned all the drawers in the fridge. He’s cleaned _everything_ he can and there’s nothing left to do in here. All he can do is go out into the living room and-

And have to deal with Magnus again.

Because of _fucking_ course Magnus is just sitting in his damn armchair, looking at his damn phone, with his damn drink, like nothing is happening. Like it’s a perfectly normal night and everything’s fine and he hasn’t done _anything_ to make Alec want to break all the fanciest plates he can find in the cupboards.

Maybe he should just go home. He hasn’t wanted to be here for the past couple of _hours,_ so what’s the fucking point?

Huh. That would mean…

For the first time in the four months they’ve been dating, Alec would rather be at the Institute than here.

That can’t be right.

It’s not completely true, anyway. He may want to leave, but he doesn’t want to back to the Institute. Because Izzy and Jace and Clary and even _Simon_ all know that he’s here (and why the fucking fuck had Izzy blurted something like _that_ to the goddamn vampire over the phone anyway?) and if he goes back tonight, they’re all gonna know that something’s wrong. And he sure as fuck knows that he can’t talk about this to anyone. He can’t let anyone know how shitty tonight has been. He’s too annoyed and too proud and too aware of the fact that he’s done absolutely _nothing_ wrong to deserve being treated like this and it’s all so _fucking stupid-_

He takes another deep breath. It shakes a little.

Standing here trying to claw the marble off of the counter-tops isn’t going to do anyone any good. So he lets go, and feels the blood rush back to his fingertips.

Maybe he could clean the bathroom? It’d at least give him something to do.

But that’s stupid. That’s fucking stupid, because not only does Magnus _not_ deserve free cleaning services right now, but it’s also pretty goddamn unlikely that Magnus is in this mood because of a dusty bathroom. It wouldn’t help.

He needs a drink.

Yes, the minibar is in the living room, where Magnus is, but it’s at the end closest to the kitchen, and Magnus’s chair is facing the opposite direction. It’s not like he’ll have to start a conversation. And he damn well knows that Magnus isn’t going to start one either.

He’s been hiding in the kitchen for so long that it feels a little weird walking out into the rest of the loft. It’s darker outside now, and the only lights are the tv (which is on, but being completely ignored), and the screen of Magnus’s phone.

But it’s still bright enough for Alec to get to the minibar and pour himself a shot of the first clear liquid he can find. He doesn’t really do hard liquor on its own, without any sort of sweeteners or other flavors to take off the edge, so it tastes absolutely _disgusting_ as he knocks it back in one god-awful swallow. It burns his throat and chest so bad that for a terrifying second he thinks he’s gonna throw it right back up… but he breathes through it, and the sting settles into a pleasant warmth that’s just enough to loosen the tension in his gut. He grimaces at the taste as he sets the glass back down, and realizes that now he has another dish he can wash. So, that’s something.

For a moment, he’s tempted to pour another shot of that… whatever that was. He has no idea. If he had to guess based on taste, he’d say lighter fluid. Bad lighter fluid. Cheap, fermented lighter fluid. Whatever this was, it was fucking disgusting, and he’s pretty sure he’ll never be able to drink it again, no matter what it’s mixed with.

There’s a terrible, childish part of him that hopes it was really fancy and expensive, just so he can have the satisfaction of knowing it was wasted on someone who thought it was shitty.

But he’s better than that. He knows he’s better than that. So he sets down his glass, and turns away from the bar.

Across the loft, Magnus is still in his chair. Where he’s been for almost two hours now. Ever since they finished dinner (which they’d eaten on the couch tonight, watching tv in uncomfortable, oppressive silence). He’d just gotten up, poured himself another drink, and settled into the armchair with his phone.

Alec can see that his glass is almost half-full. But it had been nearly empty the last time he saw it. Of course. He wonders how many times Magnus has refilled it since Alec took the dishes to the kitchen.

He’s been drinking all night.

Yeah, Magnus is pretty much always drinking. But tonight, he’s really been _drinking._

It’s usually a glass of wine with dinner. Or a scotch afterward. It’s a bit more than that if they go out somewhere. But tonight, it’s been glass after glass after glass after _glass_ of whiskey. Alec doesn’t understand how Magnus hasn’t passed out by now. He knows Magnus has to have built up a truly impressive alcohol tolerance over the past few centuries, but this is fucking ridiculous. Even though it’s just small glasses, Alec’s pretty sure he must have gone through most of a bottle by now, just since Alec got here.

And he’s only been here for a few hours.

Magnus had already had an empty glass in hand when Alec arrived. How many has he had since he got up this morning?

Maybe that’s why he’s being so shitty. Maybe he’s just drunk off his ass. Alec doesn’t think he’s ever seen Magnus drunk before. He’s seen him get a little extra handsy after one-too-many drinks at the club, but even then he hadn’t really seemed _drunk_ at all.

Then again, he doesn’t seem particularly drunk now. He hasn’t spoken to Alec in a while, but the last time he had, his speech wasn’t slurred. His eyes aren’t red or glassy (though that might just be part of the glamour, Alec’s not sure). He’s been completely coherent all night.

He’s been a fucking _dick_ all night, but as far as Alec can tell, he’s a perfectly sober dick.

Magnus takes another sip of what might as well be his thousandth drink, and keeps tapping on his phone. After a moment, he uncrosses his legs and crosses them the other way. And even that little movement is graceful enough that Alec knows there’s no way he could be significantly drunk. He’s as in control of himself as ever.

He’s not as fancy as usual tonight. Alec knows he didn’t have any clients to see, and from what he can tell, Magnus probably hasn’t left the loft all day. He’s wearing jeans and a green button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and it’d be a perfectly _normal,_ non-Magnus outfit if it weren’t for the ridiculous amount of jewelry covering what must be half the total surface area of his body. Necklaces, bracelets, rings, earrings, chains, jewels, more shapes and metals and colors than Alec had known was possible for one person to wear at once. His hair is tall and spiky, and his makeup is a little darker than usual. He looks… sharp. Uninviting. Like there’s nowhere on his body that would be soft or pleasant to touch.

Which might very well be the case, since it’s not like Alec has been given the opportunity to touch him at all tonight.

It doesn’t make any fucking sense.

Magnus had asked him to come over. That afternoon, he’d called and specifically asked Alec to come and spend the night, even though they weren’t planning on seeing each other for a few more days. And it’s not like Alec needs much of an excuse to spend the night at the loft, so he’d basically ditched all of his responsibilities for the evening and come over (as soon as he’d gotten out of the one meeting he knew he couldn’t skip). Magnus had _asked_ to see Alec tonight.

And from the moment he’d opened the door, it’s been _this._

No fucking sense.

Nothing unusual happened the last time they’d seen each other. It had been great. Magnus had _nothing_ going on today, so there shouldn’t have been an opportunity for anyone or anything to piss him off. There’s literally no fucking reason for him to be like this.

And Alec has done everything he possibly can to try and cheer him up, which is the most fucking frustrating thing of all.

Because Alec’s had a great day, and was in a great mood, and was _thrilled_ at the idea of getting to unexpectedly spend the night with Magnus. He’d picked one of Magnus’s favorite places for them to get take-out. He’d put on one of Magnus’s favorite tv shows while they ate. He’d washed all the dishes. And the kitchen. He’s been consistently pleasant and happy, even as he’s gotten more and more annoyed. He’s done damn near everything he can think of that might possibly lift Magnus’s mood a little.

It hasn’t done shit.

Alec knows everyone has bad days (even if he hasn’t actually _seen_ one of Magnus’s before), and it’s not like he’d hold it against Magnus if something crappy was going on or something was really bothering him. He’d be more than willing to let Magnus vent to him, to talk about what was making him so upset and try to be helpful.

But Magnus hasn’t said a single fucking word.

Alec’s tried. He’s tried numerous times. He’s asked if Magnus is okay, if anything happened earlier, if anything’s wrong, if there’s anything he can do.

And every fucking time, Magnus has brushed him off. “I’m fine, darling.” “I’m fine, Alexander.” “I’m _fine,_ Alec.”

So now, Alec can only assume that Magnus had asked him to come over specifically so he could ignore him. Because apparently ignoring him over the phone wouldn’t be enough, he needed to do it in person. To make sure he’s as big of a jackass as possible about it.

Maybe Alec actually wouldn’t mind another shot of that lighter fluid.

He takes another deep breath.

He’s being ridiculous. Well, out of the two of them, _Magnus_ is definitely the ridiculous one tonight. But still. It’s not going to do anyone any good if Alec lets himself stew in his own annoyance all night.

Alec picks up his used glass. He knows it’s just one dish, and it doesn’t even really need to be _washed,_ but it’s something to do. Some way to feel helpful. Even if it’s pathetically small.

He looks back at Magnus.

One more chance. One more opportunity for Magnus to turn this night around. That’s only fair.

“Do you need anything, Mags?”

It’s a simple question. An offer, without being pushy about it. He could say he needs another drink, or he could say he needs to talk about something. There’s options. It’s the perfect setup.

Magnus doesn’t even look up from his phone. “No.”

Alec feels something pulse out from his chest, shooting like a physical burst of rage through his limbs.

Magnus barely even _acknowledged_ him.

Alec takes a deep breath.

Alright. He tried. He’s done trying now. Officially done. Throwing in the towel.

He takes the glass to the kitchen, rinses it out, and sets it in the sink.

He’s still taking deep breaths. But he’s also shaking a bit.

Footsteps.

Alec glances over and-

Magnus is standing in the kitchen doorway.

Alec can’t even bring himself to make eye contact. Because he doesn’t know what else he could realistically do right now, he picks up the glass he’d just rinsed out and rinses it again. It’s something to focus on. Something he can focus on that _isn’t_ Magnus.

He hears footsteps come toward him.

Magnus comes right into Alec’s space, pressing up against his back-

Alec tenses.

Magnus wraps his arms around Alec’s waist, hands slipping up under his shirt-

Alec takes a deep breath.

Magnus presses his lips to the back of Alec’s neck. “Darling-”

Alec snaps.

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me?” He pushes away from the sink and turns around, forcing Magnus to let go and take a step back. “All night. I’ve been trying to cheer you up _all damn night,_ and you’ve been treating me like shit the entire time. And now all of a sudden you’re ready to be all lovey-dovey on me?”

Magnus’s eyes are a little wide, but that’s the only thing that gives away his surprise at the outburst. His hands are still stretched toward Alec a bit, almost like he wants to move in toward him again.

Alec takes a step further away to make sure he won’t. “I dropped everything and ran over here when you asked me to. And you’ve been acting like an asshole since I got here. I’d get it if you had a rough day and you wanted me to… I don’t know, _help_ or something. But I’ve been trying so fucking hard and you’re just-” His words dry up, leaving him mid-sentence, and his hand waves uselessly at his side like that might somehow complete his thought for him.

He exhales slowly. His heart is beating a little too fast. It’s a little too hard to breathe. “Look, if you want to be a dick to me all night, fine. Whatever. But you can’t suddenly decide to be in a good mood again and expect me to go along with it.”

It feels surprisingly… nice, to get some of this out of his system. It’s satisfying to make sure Magnus _knows_ how done Alec is with his shit right now. Because he doesn’t deserve this. And Magnus needs to fucking realize that.

Magnus is still just… looking at him. Eyes slightly wide. Lips pressed together. Strangely, this is the _least_ upset he’s looked with Alec all night. Like the surprise has cut through his awful mood.

It feels like minutes pass in the strained, horrible silence before Magnus finally speaks. “I just… needed to see you.”

Well… shit.

What was that? He’s never heard Magnus’s voice like that. He sounded… uncertain. Like he didn’t actually have the words for whatever he wanted to say. Magnus isn’t like that.

And it feels so, _so_ horrible to admit it, but Alec’s almost a little relieved. Because maybe this means that Magnus is done being a dick and he’s finally going to _talk_ to Alec about whatever’s going on and Alec can help and that’ll be it, they’ll be done with whatever the fuck this terrible evening was, and everything’ll be fine.

He takes a small step in. “Magnus, what’s wrong?” He asks it as gently as he can, fully expecting to get an answer this time and let all of his annoyance dissipate.

And Magnus puts on that goddamn fucking smile. The fake one. The one he uses when something’s bothering him and he’s not gonna say a damn thing about it.

Even though Alec already knows what he’s going to say, it still feels like a small flicker of hope is doused in his chest when Magnus says “Nothing, darling” in the most insincere voice Alec’s ever heard.

Unbelievable.

Fucking unbelievable.

“Fine. Don’t tell me. Don’t tell the person who _cares_ and just wants to help.” It’s starting to get difficult to keep his voice calm, so Alec forces himself to stop and breathe for a moment. Until he levels out. “But whatever’s bothering you, it sure as fuck isn't my fault. I don’t deserve to be treated like it is.”

Magnus just keeps that infuriatingly fake smile on his face. “Alec, you-”

“No.” Alec has no interest in hearing whatever bullshit lies Magnus wants to give him now. He holds up his hands in surrender. “Fuck this. I’m done.” Magnus won't get out of his way, so Alec has to brush past him on his way out of the kitchen. “I’m going to bed.”

It’s still early. It’s way too early to go to bed. But he doesn’t have any other options. Because he _can't_ go back to the Institute. He just can’t.

But he also can’t be around Magnus anymore. He just can’t.

When he gets into the bedroom, there’s a brief moment where he almost sort of… hopes Magnus will come after him. To apologize. To tell him what’s going on and put an end to all of this and goddammit he wants Magnus to apologize for being so horrible to him tonight.

He waits in the doorway for a few moments.

He hears footsteps on the other side, softly trailing out from the kitchen. They pad off into the living room…

And stop.

And Alec wants to smash his fist into the goddamn door because Magnus probably went right back to his chair with his drink and his phone like nothing happened and he doesn’t understand why the _fuck_ Magnus wanted him here just to do _this_ to him.

He knows he can’t fall asleep like this. That there’s no chance in hell that he’d be able to relax enough. At this rate, he’ll be trapped in the bedroom for hours before he could even try to drift off. He wonders if Magnus will even try to come in here to sleep, or if Alec’s officially kicked him out of his own bed-

Oh. Huh. Is this a…

Is this a fight? Are they fighting? Did Alec just make Magnus sleep on the couch for the night, like they’re some old married couple going through a rough patch?

This doesn’t feel like fighting. This feels like Magnus being a dick and Alec rightly calling him out on it. There wasn’t a fight. Maybe an argument. But mostly just…

Just a really shitty night.

It’ll be fine. Yeah, Alec is capable of holding truly spectacular grudges when he wants to, but with something like this, it’s the last thing he wants. He knows he’ll be fine in the morning. The annoyance will be gone, and he’ll be embarrassed that he snapped at Magnus like that. And Magnus…

Magnus will probably be fine too. He’ll either have moved on from the whole thing, and he’ll apologize and be his usual self. Or he’ll crack, and tell Alec what was wrong, and they can do something about it.

It’s fine. It’s gonna be fine.

But that still doesn’t mean Alec can sleep.

Or that he can go back out in the living room and face Magnus again.

He steps back from the door and just… looks around the room for a second. Alec has spent more nights in this room than he can count. And even though it took him a few weeks to get used to the idea of staying in _Magnus’s_ bedroom, he’s never given it too much thought.

But now, it’s like…

Like he’s trespassing. Because he’s in Magnus’s room, and Magnus isn’t. Alec closed the door and shut Magnus Bane out of his own goddamn bedroom. And that’s a fucking bizarre feeling.

Even though he’s spent a decent amount of time in here, he’s just now realizing that… there’s not much to _do._ It’s just a bed, and a nightstand, and three doors: the closet, the bathroom, and back out into the loft.

It makes sense. It’s a bedroom. It’s for sleeping. Magnus has an entire apartment for everything else.

But right now it’s a little inconvenient.

Alec’s only ever been in here to sleep, or… for other bed-related things that _don’t_ involve sleeping. And now he’s locked himself in here (figuratively - there’s nothing stopping Magnus from coming in whenever he wants to) and there’s nothing to do and he’s stuck and he won’t be able to sleep and he’s still buzzing with all this fucking _annoyance-_

He glances at the bathroom.

Okay. A shower. That’ll be good. That’ll be perfect.

Calm down, clear his head, relax a little bit. It’ll take his mind off of… everything else. For a few minutes. Hot water and soap and feeling nice and clean.

Yeah. It’s a good plan.

Alec closes the bathroom door behind him…

And after a moment, he locks it.

He’s never done that before. Every time he’s showered here, he’s left the door unlocked. So Magnus could come in if he needed something. Or, once or twice… so he could join Alec. He’s always left the door unlocked, just in case.

Not this time. He doesn’t want Magnus coming in here now.

It’s a strange feeling…

But Alec’s not gonna feel _guilty_ about locking the damn bathroom door while he takes a shower. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s normal. Perfectly normal.

Getting undressed and starting the shower feel almost mechanical. He’s not paying any damn attention to what he’s doing. He’s standing naked under the scalding hot spray before he even realizes that he’s taken off his clothes - and without a single uncomfortable glance to the mirror. Huh. Who would’ve thunk that all it takes to distract Alec from how much he hates his body is a fight with his boyfriend?

No. That’s not right.

They’re not fighting.

This is too dumb to be a fight. It’s just a bad day. Alec isn’t going to let their first fight be about something this stupid.

He reaches for the shampoo-

And pauses when he touches the bottle.

Sandalwood.

Magnus’s signature scent.

There’s this… this part of Alec that wants to find a different bottle. That doesn’t want to smell like Magnus. Like using Magnus’s scent would somehow equate to… letting him win.

Alec’s eyes widen. Because _by the Angel,_ has he _ever_ thought something so ridiculously petty before? He’s a grown man, not a five-year-old.

He uses the goddamn sandalwood shampoo because he’s not a goddamn idiot.

And the sandalwood facewash. And the sandalwood bodywash.

And by the end of it… the shower really did help. No, he’s not suddenly all cheerful and okay with everything. But yes, he’s definitely calmer now. The hot water relaxed him, and washing made him feel a little refreshed, and he’s…

He’s fine now.

He’s not good, but he’s fine.

He towels off quickly, realizing that he’s actually looking forward to putting on fresh clothes and crawling into a bed that’s _infinitely_ more comfortable than the one he has back at the Institute. Now that he’s calmed down, it’s like being so annoyed for so long has exhausted him. He’s excited to get to sleep. He needs it.

Alec unlocks the bathroom door-

And wonders if Magnus is gonna be in the bedroom. He tightens his hold on the towel around his hips, just in case…

The bedroom is empty.

Figures.

The door out to the living room is still closed. Alec walks a little closer to it and… yeah. He can still hear the quiet hum of the ignored tv. Magnus probably hasn’t even moved.

Right. Alright. Okay. Fine.

Alec refuses to get worked up again, so he doesn’t let himself think about it. He just goes to the closet to get his clothes.

He’s finally reached the point where he doesn’t mind sleeping in nothing at all, but on a night like tonight, he’s _profoundly_ grateful that he keeps extra clothes here, and that he has a clean pair of boxers and a spare t-shirt to use as pajamas.

Even though he knows he’s an adult, and he’s not petty, apparently he’s not above leaving his wet towel on the floor of Magnus’s closet. Or leaving his old clothes in a pile in the bathroom. Everything is always so clean here, so neat and tidy. Alec knows it’s only because Magnus maintains it with magic (he’d _never_ put in the effort if he had to clean anything by hand, that’s for sure), but it’s still weirdly satisfying to leave these tiny patches of disorder in the pristine loft. He figures there are worse ways he could be letting out his frustration, so he doesn’t begrudge himself this.

He also doesn’t mind that his hair is still a little damp as he gets into bed, knowing he’s leaving a wet stain on the silk pillowcase. He has to admit that _this_ is a little petty. But he can’t make himself care.

It’s unexpectedly weird to be in this bed without Magnus. He doesn’t… he doesn’t think he’s _ever_ been in Magnus’s bed alone. Nights that he stays over, they invariably end up going to bed at the same time (though Magnus _always_ falls asleep first). And Alec invariably wakes up at least an hour before Magnus does. This is the first time he’s actually gotten into bed and fallen asleep here without Magnus next to him. It shouldn’t feel that much different, but…

Shit. It does. It definitely does.

Alec stays strictly on his usual side of the bed. He arranges the pillows like he always does - which requires throwing at least four tiny decorative ones onto the floor to reveal the _actual_ person-sized pillows underneath. He settles himself into the bedding like he always does, and reaches out to plug in his phone with the charger that Magnus has started leaving plugged in on his side-

His phone.

Fuck.

His phone is still in the pocket of his pants.

Which are still on the bathroom floor.

Alec immediately tries to think of how he could possibly get his phone into his hand without having to get out of bed.

But he can’t. And it’s not worth it. The ringer is turned up all the way anyway, so if there’s an emergency at the Institute, he’ll still be able to hear it.

Still, on a night when he’s already been more annoyed than he ever has in his life, something like _this_ is just fucking unfair. His phone should be in a more convenient location. He deserves that bit of good luck right now.

With a sigh that’s a bit more dramatic than necessary, he tucks himself under the sheets (which are emerald green today), snuggles into his pillow, and-

He left the light on.

He left the fucking light on.

Fuck it.

He physically cannot make himself give a fuck.

Instead, he just pulls the silk sheet up over his face to block the lights. Good enough.

It takes about thirty seconds for him to realize that he can’t sleep like this. He’s tensed up all over again. The soothing effect of the shower is completely dead. He feels… itchy. Like he can’t lie still. He keeps shifting his limbs, little movements in all sorts of useless directions. Nothing makes him comfortable. It only takes a few more minutes to feel like he’s dying. He absolutely _cannot_ find a position that doesn’t feel like a method of torture, the silk sheets are burning like a furnace, and his shirt is so goddamn fucking itchy it’s like the whole thing is made of poison ivy instead of cotton.

Alec throws the sheet off of him, just barely containing an actual shout of frustration at how much the world fucking hates him tonight. He wrestles off his t-shirt as quickly as possible and tosses it off the side of the bed to join the throw pillows in hell. But it’s not much of an improvement. He tosses and turns a few times (actual, literal tossing and turning, which feels so cliched that he’s almost mad at himself for doing it), and finally resigns himself to curling up on his side, facing away from the door. But it’s not because it’s comfortable. He’s just sick of trying. It’s defeat.

Breathing.

He has to keep breathing.

Slow, deep breaths. Even and smooth and simple and it’ll soothe his racing heart and calm his racing mind and he’ll drift off before he knows it...

There’s a sudden noise, and the bed dips a foot or so away from Alec’s feet. He’s about to bolt up and either fight or dissolve into panic-

He feels a tiny bit of pressure on the side of his leg. A paw-sized point of pressure, that’s quickly joined by three others.

Alec sighs. “Hey, Chairman.” He hadn’t even realized that cat was in here. He must have been sleeping under the bed. “I didn’t mean to trap you in here with me. Sorry. I hope you don’t need to use the litter box, because I’m _not_ getting up to open the door.”

Chairman Meow slowly makes his way up Alec’s body, managing to knead what feels like every single one of Alec’s internal organs, and digging in his claws whenever he starts to slip. It’s _awful,_ but Alec likes him enough to let him do his thing.

Alec’s still on his side, so the Chairman gets stuck when he reaches Alec’s armpit. He steps onto the mattress instead, and immediately butts his head right against Alec’s nose.

“Hey!” Alec protests quietly, because that actually kinda hurt. For a small cat, he’s got a really solid skull.

The Chairman seems undeterred, and continues to rub his face against Alec’s. After a moment, he turns, so Alec gets a face-full of fluffy tail instead.

Alec sputters what feels like _hundreds_ of hairs off of his tongue, even though his mouth wasn’t even open. “Come on, Chairman. If you’re gonna stay, you gotta lie down. I _will_ shove you off.”

The Chairman just starts purring. But after a bit more pawing around, he drops down to his side, stretching and rolling onto his back.

Fuck. It’s adorable. His little paws spreading out with his little toes and then he _yawns_ and Alec might actually die because of this.

The temptation is too strong. Alec starts petting the Chairman’s belly, which the Chairman usually hates, but he’s just lying on his back like that with all his limbs stretched out and Alec can’t just not even _try._

The Chairman tenses with a little noise, like he might attack… but then he starts purring.

Alec smiles a bit to himself. “Don’t let Magnus find out that you’re on my side,” he whispers, like it’s actually a secret, “he’d be _furious._ You’re supposed to be loyal to him, not me.”

And for a few minutes, nothing else happens. Alec just lies there, petting Chairman Meow, and he finally, _finally_ feels himself relax. Like he could fall asleep at any moment.

So, of course, because the universe is really outdoing itself tonight, that’s when the Chairman decides to flip over and practically leap off of the bed, startling Alec out of his pleasant stupor. Everything was so _nice,_ Alec doesn’t understand why he had to-

He hears movement.

Right outside the door. The Chairman must have realized that he’ll be able to get out the door again.

Sure enough, Alec can hear tiny paws run out into the living room as soon as the door opens.

But he refuses to turn over. He stays on his side, facing away from the door, face pressed into the pillow.

“Alexander?”

Magnus’s voice is quiet. Either he’s not sure if Alec is awake, or he’s not sure what Alec’s mood will be if he is. Somehow, that’s satisfying. Alec has been tip-toeing around Magnus’s emotions all fucking night. It’s only fair that Magnus should have to do the same.

Alec isn’t actually planning on pretending to be asleep (though the thought definitely does cross his mind), because he’s not that petty, he’s not that petty, he’s _not_ that petty, he just doesn’t know what he could say right now. He doesn’t want to have to pretend to be happy. He doesn’t want to have to deal with whatever bullshit excuse Magnus has come up with… or, more likely, whatever evasion he’s going to give. Whatever he’s going to do to get out of admitting whatever the hell has been going on tonight. Alec doesn’t think he can handle hearing that horrible, _phony_ cheerful voice Magnus uses when he refuses to treat Alec with enough respect to trust him with his problems-

“Alec?”

That didn’t… That wasn’t his fake-happy voice. His ‘everything’s super fine even though I’m miserable I just won’t tell you why’ voice.

That was…

Weak.

Magnus sounds weak. Magnus shouldn’t sound like that. Magnus has _never_ sounded like that before.

Alec sits up. “What?” The long night of frustration means that his voice doesn’t sound quite as gentle as he wanted it to, but he looks over-

Oh.

Magnus is standing in the doorway. He doesn’t have his phone, or his drink. He looks… small. Alec doesn’t think he’s ever seen him look this small. His face is moving a bit, contracting, like he’s working hard to keep his expression neutral. The glamour on his eyes is starting to flicker, but not in the uncontrolled, excited way it usually does. It looks like it’s breaking. Magnus looks like he’s about to break.

“It’s…” Magnus’s voice shakes, and he takes an audible breath. “It’s Ragnor’s birthday today.”

It’s like a kick to the chest.

Everything makes sense, but that’s not a relief. It’s like all the pieces have fallen into place, but the pieces are to a shitty puzzle, so having it solved just makes everything so much worse.

“Oh.” Alec wants to say more. He knows he _needs_ to say more. But he can’t get his breath back.

Magnus puts on that smile, the one he uses when he’s trying to play off something awful as a joke. But it’s cracked. It barely even looks like a smile. He looks down at the floor. “I forgot it once. It was decades ago, but… he never forgave me.” And he laughs.

He _laughs._ Like it’s supposed to be funny.

“Magnus-”

“I had planned to spend the day with Catarina. But there’s a flu outbreak at the hospital and she couldn’t get away and…” He looks up at Alec. The glamour is gone from his eyes. He’s still trying to keep up that smile, and it isn’t working. “I didn’t want to be alone.” And then words just sort of… rush out of him. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been… I couldn’t be alone, but I don’t know how to be around anyone like this. I'm just- I'm not used to having someone who. Cares. About this sort of thing. I know I should have told you. It wasn’t fair of me to…” He presses his lips together. “I’m sorry, Alec.”

Alec’s first impulse is to say ‘it’s alright’, but he can’t make himself do it. Because it’s _not._ Nothing about this situation is ‘alright’, and he doesn’t want to imply that it is. It’s awful. It’s fucking awful and he wants to make sure that Magnus knows it’s alright to treat it like it’s awful. Magnus has probably been telling himself that he’s alright all day. Magnus always thinks he has to be alright, with everything. Alec can’t stomach the thought of telling him that he should be alright with _this._

So instead, he says “I understand.”

And only feels like a little bit of a lie.

Because he understands death, sure. He’s dealt with loss himself, and dealt with helping other people who are dealing with it.

But something like this? It’s so far beyond his scope he can’t even imagine it. Magnus losing someone who’d been his best friend for _hundreds_ of years. Magnus losing one of the only people he thought he’d never have to lose. Alec can’t possibly understand that.

Magnus shifts a little in the doorway, like he’s not quite sure what he’s supposed to do. Like… _fuck._ Like he’s not sure if he’s welcome in here. Like he thinks Alec might still not want to deal with him.

“Mags…” His mind completely blanks, and he can’t think of any words that might work. So he pulls back the covers on the other side of the bed, and pats the empty space next to him.

Magnus’s face crumples.

By the Angel, Alec never wants to have to see him look like this again. He can see every single crack as Magnus breaks down.

But he moves right away. In the few steps it takes for Magnus to get from the door to the bed, his jewelry disappears, and then his clothes. The crackle of blue fades, and by the time he crawls onto the bed, he’s just in a white undershirt and a pair of surprisingly plain panties.

Alec holds out his hand, and Magnus doesn’t need any more invitation than that to go right to him. Alec leans back against the headboard, propped up by the pillows he hasn’t tossed to the floor. And Magnus immediately curls against his side. He presses his face to Alec’s bare chest, and clings to him. His hands clutch a little too hard at Alec’s sides, just shy of being painful, but Alec doesn’t care. He wraps his arms around Magnus, one hand splayed on the small of his back, the other cradling his head.

They’re still for a few moments, both just lying there, breathing a little unevenly. Until, slowly…

Fuck.

It starts as a shiver. Just a fine tremor in Magnus’s shoulders. But it doesn’t take long for it to turn to noticeable, continuous shaking. And Alec feels his chest start to get wet.

He’s never seen Magnus cry before. Shit, he’s never really seen Magnus get emotional at all. He’s always perfectly calm and collected. The only really _powerful_ emotions Alec has seen from him are excitement and passion. Alec has seen things hurt Magnus, but he’s never really seen Magnus be _hurt_ by them. He always covers it up. Pretends he’s fine. Calm. Unaffected.

Alec’s always known that was bullshit, and by now he can tell when Magnus is pretending to be invulnerable. It’s always been painful, and difficult to process.

But _this_ is…

Alec tightens his hold a little. He slips his hand under the hem of Magnus’s shirt, because somehow pressing against the bare skin of his back makes it feel like they’re closer together. He kisses the top of Magnus’s head, over and over and over, because really, what else can he do? He’s never felt so useless in his entire life.

Except… He wonders if Magnus had cried earlier today. Before Alec got here. He’s not sure… but he kind of suspects that this might be the first time Magnus has _let_ himself cry like this today. He’s never-

Huh. Alec realizes that Magnus has _never_ mentioned Ragnor’s death to him. It’s been four months. He hasn’t said a word. Alec found out about it in a goddamn mission report at the Institute. He had guessed how difficult it must have been for Magnus, but that’s all it was. A guess. Magnus has talked about Ragnor, but only briefly. Bringing up a little memory here and there. Small, offhand comments that he tossed out easily, then immediately changed the subject. Almost like… like he’d forgotten. And talking about it made him remember.

And Alec had never tried to pull him into any conversation about it. It didn’t feel like it was his place. Hell, he _knows_ it’s not his place. But still…

He’s glad he’s here. He’s strangely… grateful. That Magnus is trusting him with this.

Even if he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do.

He wants to say something. Something to comfort him. But, by the Angel, what could possibly be _comforting_ right now? Saying it’s alright still feels disrespectful. Trying too hard to soothe him feels like he’s trying to say that Magnus shouldn’t be crying, and that’s the exact opposite of what he wants to do. He wants Magnus to know that this is okay, that he can cry all he wants, and Alec will…

Oh.

Alec tucks his face against the top of Magnus’s head, nuzzling into his hair. “I’m here,” he says quietly. Because that’s true. And it’s gonna keep being true. “I’m here, Mags. I’ve got you.”

Alec has absolutely no sense of time like this. There’s a clock on the wall opposite the bed, but he’d have to pull away to look at it, and that’s out of the question. So he has no idea how long it’s been. It might only be a few seconds. But Alec feels like the better part of half an hour must go by while they just stay like that. Curled up in bed, Magnus crying silently onto Alec’s chest, Alec holding him so tight his arms start to hurt, twisting his face to press a kiss to Magnus’s hair every now and then.

Alec thinks he could stay here forever, if Magnus wanted him to.

But eventually, Magnus stops shaking. It’s gradual, and uncertain, but it happens. Alec’s not sure if Magnus is actually ready to stop, or if he’s just exhausted himself. If he has nothing left to give. Either way, after another minute or two, he’s not crying anymore. He’s just breathing against Alec’s chest. Each breath gets deeper and smoother and steadier until…

Until it’s like they’re just lying there, cuddled together for no reason whatsoever. Alec loosens his hold a bit - mostly because he’s afraid he’s going to suffocate Magnus if he doesn’t - but doesn’t stop running his fingers through Magnus’s hair or stroking his hand up and down Magnus’s spine.

It’s probably another couple of minutes before Magnus finally breaks the silence. “He would have liked you.”

Alec’s hands still. Because…

It’s not like he’s gonna _contradict_ Magnus right now, but from the little he’s heard about Ragnor, that doesn’t seem-

“No. That’s not true.” Magnus gives a weak, wet laugh, still not lifting his face from Alec’s chest. “He would have hated you. He hated everyone.” He tries to laugh again, but ends up just snuffling a bit instead. “But he would have _loved_ using you to make fun of me. Oh god, I can’t even _imagine_ what he and Raphael would have said about you.”

Alec furrows his eyebrows. “Raphael Santiago?” He didn’t realize Ragnor had even known him.

Magnus nods, and cozies himself against Alec’s side a bit, so he’s snuggled a bit more and clinging a bit less. “You know how awful Raphael is? Imagine there being _two_ of him.” He chuckles again. His voice is still thick with tears. “The two saltiest, most crotchety old men in the world. Brought together only by their mutual disdain for _me_ and everything I’ve ever done. They would have had a field day when they found out I’m dating a shadowhunter. And a _Lightwood,_ too.” He makes a dismissive sound.

Alec actually laughs a little bit. It feels like a strange situation to be laughing, but it also feels natural. Magnus isn’t making a joke to try and cover up what’s really happening. This is just… a funny piece of truth.

“I’ve actually been…” Magnus stops, takes a breath, and starts again. “I’ve been talking to Raphael quite a bit today. Ragnor’s social circle was pitifully small; I didn’t have many other options.”

Which explains why he’s been glued to his phone. Alec closes his eyes, because everything makes so much goddamn sense now, and everything goddamn sucks.

After a moment, Magnus starts to move. He pushes himself up onto his elbows, sniffling furiously and wiping his face against his shoulder.

“Hang on-” Alec says quickly. He reaches his hand over the edge of the bed, careful not to dislodge Magnus, and grasps around blindly until he finds his discarded t-shirt. “Here.” He gently tips up Magnus’s chin, and uses his t-shirt to dry Magnus’s face.

Magnus gives a weak, embarrassed smile as Alec wipes the tears off of his cheeks, but doesn’t try to stop him from doing a thorough job. “Thank you, darling.”

Alec drops the shirt next to him on the bed, but brings his hand back up to cradle Magnus’s jaw. He smiles, as much as he can. “Do you need anything? Some water, or…?” He knows Magnus could poof himself a glass of water so much easier and faster than if Alec got it for him, but he wants to offer anyway. He wants to be helpful. He wants Magnus to know that he wants to be helpful.

Magnus’s smile grows a bit. “No, darling. I’m…” He nuzzles his face a little further into Alec’s touch. “I’m fine.”

And Alec knows that this time, he means it.

Magnus sighs, deep, and exhausted. He picks up Alec’s tear-stained shirt, balls it up into a makeshift pillow, and uses it to rest his head on Alec’s chest again, a bit more comfortably this time.

Alec nestles himself further into his own pile of pillows, and drapes his arms loosely around Magnus’s waist. Things are calm now. Quiet.

Except, even though Magnus said he doesn’t need anything, there’s still one more thing Alec can offer. “Do you just want to get some sleep, or would it- Would it maybe help at all to… talk a bit? I’m… uh. I’m a lot nicer to talk to than Raphael Santiago.” It’s a little bold for him, teasing like that at a moment like this.

But it pays off, because Magnus laughs. “You certainly are, Alexander.”

He’s silent for a few moments. But then, he curls a little closer to Alec. “Have I ever told you about the time Ragnor and I became pirates?”

Alec laughs before he can think better of it. Because that’s one of those things. One of those things that Magnus throws out _just_ casually enough that Alec’s not sure if it’s a blatant fucking lie, or just stupid enough to be true. “No. I don’t think I’ve heard about that.”

Magnus hums, quiet and content. It’s the sound he makes when he’s about to launch into a truly _epic_ bout of storytelling.

Alec smiles. He thinks he’s gonna like this one.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the next chapter will be happier than this.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The noise repeats. It’s a tiny little scuffling. And after a moment, it doubles.  
> Alec sighs, and lets go of his seraph blade. Okay.  
> Not _that_ kind of emergency.

There’s a noise on the other side of the wall.

Alec’s reaching for the seraph blade he keeps tucked between the mattress and the headboard before he realizes that he’s awake. He’s not even sure he _is_ completely awake yet. But he gets a grip on the handle of the blade - still in its hiding place - and waits, because he doesn’t want to draw a weapon if it’s just…

The noise repeats. It’s a tiny little scuffling. And after a moment, it doubles.

Alec sighs, and lets go of his seraph blade. Okay.

Not _that_ kind of emergency.

He glances over at Magnus - but he’s still asleep on the other side of the bed. He’s shifting a little, like the noise disturbed him, but he’s always been a much heavier sleeper than Alec. It doesn’t look like he’s going to wake up. Alec decides to let him be for now, until he determines if this is a two-person problem.

Alec pulls his protesting body out of his comfortable nest to switch on the lamp on his nightstand. He shuts his eyes against the sudden brightness, and has to blink sharply a few times to adjust.

He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, trying to wake himself up a bit further-

But he’s stopped by the sound of footsteps. Tiny footsteps.

Max appears in the doorway, and the _glaring_ contrast between his blue skin and his neon-yellow pirate pajamas makes Alec blink a few more times before his tired eyes will actually focus. Max marches right into the bedroom, and-

Oh. Rafael is right behind him. Max has what looks to be a very tight grip on Rafe’s hand, and he’s tugging him into the room. Well, he’s practically _dragging_ him. Rafe has his other hand pressed against his mouth, like he’s trying to fight the urge to nibble his thumb, and he looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. Both of them look sleepy. They’re mussed and groggy enough that Alec’s pretty sure they just woke up.

“What’s going on, guys?” Alec asks, trying to sound as pleasant as he can as he fights the sleep-gunk in his throat.

“Rafe had a bad dream,” Max declares, with so much more intensity than a three-year-old should be able to muster.

Ah. Alright then.

Definitely a two-person problem.

Alec reaches back to gently wake up Magnus-

But Magnus’s subconscious must have heard the phrase ‘One of my children is unhappy’, because he’s wide awake instantly. By the time Alec can turn around to look at him, he’s already out of bed. Alec almost wants to laugh. He’s pretty sure Magnus’s paternal instincts are so strong that he could wake himself out of a coma if one of the kids so much as scraped their knee.

Magnus has apparently heard all he needs to hear about the situation, because he goes straight to Rafael and scoops him right off of the floor like he’s an infant and not a gangly five-year-old. Rafe looks stunned for a moment, and almost sort of… uncomfortable…

But then Magnus starts cooing to him in Spanish, so fast that Alec’s rudimentary grasp of the language can’t even begin to follow him. He only catches a few words here and there, things like ‘dear’ and ‘alright’ and ‘safe’.

And soon enough, Rafe gives in. He wraps his arms around Magnus’s neck and does his best to burrow his face into Magnus’s shoulder.

Alec can actually _see_ Magnus start to melt into a puddle of goo, but he visibly keeps himself together for Rafe’s sake. He just keeps murmuring to him in Spanish, holding him close and rocking back and forth a bit.

Alright. That’s one child taken care of.

Alec looks over to Max, who’s still standing a few feet in from the door. “What about you, buddy? You okay?”

Max moves his lips a few times, working them around like he’s chewing something. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, and Alec can’t tell if he’s slightly frightened or _very_ embarrassed. It’s definitely one of the two. Finally, he looks away and mumbles, “S’a monster under his bed.”

Oh. So it’s both.

Alec takes a breath. Okay. Yes, he’d rather be able to just get everyone back to sleep right away, but at least this is a straightforward problem.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” He gets out of bed, and immediately feels his legs protest at being used like this when he was right in the middle of a REM cycle. But he powers through it, and quickly grabs the witchlight he keeps in the drawer of his nightstand. He knows there’s not actually anything dangerous under Rafe’s bed, so he leaves his seraph blade safely hidden away. “Okay. Do you wanna stay in here, or-”

Max grabs Alec’s free hand and tugs him toward the door.

Alec tries not to smile, because he knows this is Serious Business for Max. But it’s just too much, to be marched out of the bedroom by a toddler who’s acting like they’re going into battle.

The boys’ bedroom is right next to Magnus and Alec’s. It had been a long-forgotten guest room until Max came along and they’d turned it into his nursery. When they knew they were bringing Rafe home, they remodeled even further, converting a chunk of the massive living room into a third bedroom. It wasn’t until Rafe got there that Magnus and Alec realized they’d just… _assumed_ that Rafe wanted his own room. They hadn’t even considered that he might not be comfortable sleeping alone, which had turned out to be the case. Luckily, Max was more than willing to share his room (which is way bigger than a toddler needs, anyway). And even if the third room is wasted space for now, they know the boys will eventually get to a point where they don’t want to share anymore.

It’s always a little disorienting to flick on the light in the boys’ room at first. Because yeah, they’ve made the rest of the loft meticulously kid-friendly, but this room was designed _specifically_ for a child - technically an infant, since they haven’t really changed it much since it was Max’s nursery - and it sure as hell shows. The rest of the loft is still a lot of dark woods and rich colors, but this room is bright and soft and bizarrely _normal-_ looking compared to the rest of their home. Everything is neons and pastels and rounded edges and the softest carpet money can buy. Magnus has always let Max change the color of the walls twice a month, so long as Max helps him with the magic (even though Max’s best magical efforts still don’t really accomplish much). In the five weeks since they brought Rafael home, they’ve suggested he and Max take turns deciding the color scheme. But the boys apparently decided that they’d rather compromise and combine their ideas, resulting in four _wildly_ different walls. Right now there’s one orange, one blue, one green, and one purple. Each the brightest, most saturated shade possible. And every wall has the other three colors on it in some form, polka dots or stripes or stars in various patterns and sizes.

It looks awful. It looks like an episode of Blue’s Clues threw up in here. But the boys love it, which automatically makes it charming as far as Alec is concerned.

The left side of the room is Max’s, which is made obvious by the overwhelming amount of pirate memorabilia - the pattern on his bed covers, the toy bin that’s shaped like a ship and filled with foam swords, the giant hat sitting on his dresser… damn near _everything_ he owns is themed.

The right side of the room is Rafe’s. It’s still pretty plain (especially by comparison). A solid purple comforter, a few books on the dresser. It’s hardly anything, really. The only thing of any real significance is the small, yet quickly-growing collection of stuffed animals on the bed. Rafe either hasn’t caught on to the fact that Magnus will literally buy him _anything,_ or he’s not comfortable enough to exploit it yet.

A quick glance around the room is enough to confirm that there aren’t any monsters that wandered out of Rafe’s nightmare…

But Alec looks down and realizes that Max is hiding behind his legs, nervously clutching the fabric of his pajama pants.  

Well, shit. “Did you see the monster too, buddy?”

Max shakes his head and tries to press a little further into his Alec-shaped hiding spot. “Just Rafe did. He told me.”

Even though it’s not at all the right moment, Alec can’t help but smile, just a little bit.

Because during Alec's entire childhood as a shadowhunter, when he heard people use the word ‘monster’, they weren’t talking about demons. They were talking about downworlders. Even his own damn parents had used the word in that context, like it was nothing.

And now, his nephilim son saw a monster under his bed, and immediately asked his warlock brother for help. Alec realizes that it’s not exactly world-changing, but it still feels pretty damn nice.

“Alright. Let’s see what’s under there.” Alec gently ruffles Max’s mop of tight curls to get him to let go of Alec’s pants.

Max clearly doesn’t want to go near the scary bed, but he doesn’t look too thrilled to be left alone either. He ends up gripping the edge of the open door instead, hiding behind it with just his head poking out.

It’s times like these when Alec envies mundane parents. All they’d have to do is say ‘Monsters aren’t real’ and that’d be that. Everyone goes back to sleep. But that’s not an option for Alec - who’s killed more demons than he can count, and sleeps with a goddamn _glowing sword_ behind his mattress. Monsters may not be real, but there aren’t many differences between a child’s nightmare and a demon.

Especially for _Rafe._ Judging by the state of the Buenos Aires Institute when Alec found him, Rafe has probably seen more than enough to keep his nightmares fueled for a lifetime. It’d be downright insulting for Alec to tell him that whatever he saw tonight wasn’t real, when it very well might have been at some point.

Which is why he kneels down next to Rafe’s bed, presses the side of his face into the carpet, and holds up the witchlight to get a good look.

“Is the monster still there?” Max asks quietly, like he’s worried about Alec’s safety.

Alec knows ‘No, because Papa enchanted Daddy’s engagement ring to glow in the presence of demons, and it’s not glowing’ isn’t an answer that will satisfy this terrified three-year-old, so he carefully examines every nook and cranny. There’s a few mismatched socks, and a Tootsie Pop wrapper, and a dog-eared book, and-

“Ah. I think I found what Rafe saw.” He sits up and turns back to look at Max. “Wanna see?”

Max shifts from foot to foot, but doesn’t answer.

“It’s not a monster,” Alec says gently, “I promise.”

Max still looks a little uncertain, but he slowly makes his way over to the bed. He crouches down behind Alec, so there’s a human shield between him and whatever’s under there, just in case.

Alec ducks back down to the floor, holding up the witchlight under the bed so Max can clearly see-

“Meow!” Max shouts, which startles the Chairman out of his sleep. The cat uncurls, looking _extremely_ displeased at being woken up.

Alec smiles. “Yep. Just Meow. Rafe just had a bad dream, and when he woke up he must have seen Meow go under the bed.” Alec doesn’t understand why the Chairman can’t pick one sleeping place and just fucking stay there through the night, but he’s been known to run between the kids’ beds multiple times before morning. Of course, they’d gotten George Bernard Paw _specifically_ to be Max’s kitten, but now George only sleeps with Magnus and Alec, while the Chairman has practically adopted the kids as his own. By now, Alec’s only a _little_ bitter that he’s not Chairman Meow’s favorite anymore.

“Well, everything look safe here?” Alec asks, shining the witchlight over the rest of the monster-free area.

Max makes a noise like he’s _really_ thinking about it. Then, he nods, face completely solemn. “Safe.”

Alec nods with him, trying his best not to smile. But it’s hard, when he knows that Max only cares so much because this is _Rafael’s_ bed. Because even though Rafe is just shy of two years older than him, Max was in this home first. So as far as he’s concerned, that makes him Rafe’s Big Brother, and he takes that job _very_ seriously. He definitely considers Rafe’s overall safety and well-being to be his sole responsibility, with Magnus and Alec occasionally chipping in from the sidelines. And…

Alec suddenly realizes why Max had brought Rafe into their bedroom to tell them about his nightmare.

Max’s _other_ big job is teaching Rafe how things work in the Lightwood-Bane family. Telling him the rules. Teaching him the traditions. All the little ins-and-outs of being Magnus and Alec’s child.

And Rafe… hasn’t really bought into all of that yet. It’s understandable, obviously. Rafe has only been part of their family for a little over a month. It’s understandable that he hasn’t quite jumped headfirst into particularly family-based things, like painting Alec’s nails on Sundays, or taking turns reading the bedtime story every night. He’s still cautious with them in most things.

Alec had kind of assumed that since they’d already adopted one child, they knew exactly what they were getting themselves into. Except now, he has to keep reminding himself that Rafe’s circumstances are closer to when the Lightwoods took in Jace than when he and Magnus adopted Max. Because for Max, this is just what life is. Even though he knows he’s adopted, he’s only ever known being Magnus and Alec’s son. But Rafe is well aware that he had a different life before this, and a different family. So Alec’s aware that to Rafe, this isn’t really his _family_ yet.

But Max doesn’t seem to be aware of that _at all._ From the first moment that Magnus had asked him what he’d think of Rafael being his brother from now on, Max has been relentlessly thrilled about having a sibling. Alec hadn’t been expecting that. He’s always heard that kids usually become difficult when they have to share their parents’ attention with a new sibling (Maryse and Robert have assured him that he was a _nightmare_ for a full year after Isabelle was born). It’s probably because Rafe is a kid, someone Max can really interact with and talk to and play with, instead of an infant. Hell, Alec’s pretty sure that from day one, Max has seen Rafe as a friend who conveniently happens to live with him. Just a friend who sometimes needs to be taught the rules (and perks) of living here.

Which means that when Rafe woke him up tonight, Max must have explained that when they have nightmares, they get to sleep in Daddy and Papa’s bed. And Rafe must have been too nervous or too shy to take advantage of that. So Max had done it for him.

Alex takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly through his nose. “Well buddy, should we go tell them what we found?”

“Mm-hm,” Max hums with a confident nod. He takes Alec’s hand and starts dragging him toward the door before Alec can even stand up.

When they get back to the other bedroom, Rafe seems to have calmed down considerably. He and Magnus are sitting in bed, propped up against the headboard. Magnus has one arm around Rafe, and is humming a quiet lullaby while Rafe idly ties knots in the strings on his pajama pants. They both look ready to nod off at any moment, but Rafe perks up instantly when Alec and Max come back into the room.

Alec fully expects Max to give the official report, so he just looks down at him instead of even trying to speak.

“S’was just Meow,” Max says, every bit as serious as Alec assumed he would be.

Rafe shifts a little. Nervously. He looks hopeful, but not completely convinced. “Really?” And it doesn’t escape Alec’s notice that he’s clearly only interested in Max’s opinion.

Max nods several times. “Yep. Just Meow.”

It takes a moment, but eventually Rafe sags into Magnus’s embrace, visibly relieved.

“Alright,” Alec tries not to grimace at how suddenly he switches into Serious Dad voice, “time for _all_ of us to get back to sleep.” He still hasn't looked at the clock, and by this point, he doesn't want to. He moves in closer to the bed. “Rafe, do you wanna go back to your room, or stay in here with us?” he asks gently, making sure his Serious Dad voice is still soft and warm.

Rafe sucks his lower lip between his teeth and looks away. Alec’s not sure if he’s considering his options, or if he’s too nervous to answer.

He never does really _answer,_ but after a few seconds, he snuggles closer to Magnus, gripping the fabric of his pajama shirt. Magnus gives Alec a significant glance, and Alec feels the corner of his mouth twist up in the beginnings of a smile.

“Okay. Max, how about you?”

But Max is already hauling himself into bed, knocking Alec’s pillow to the floor in the process. Alec takes a moment to chuckle to himself as he sets his witchlight on the nightstand and retrieves the pillow.

Magnus carefully disentangles himself from Rafael so he can pull back the covers and spread out the two piles of pillows into one long row against the headboard. This may be the first time they’ve tried cramming all _four_ of them into one bed, but Magnus and Alec are used to sharing with Max, so by now they’ve established a pretty solid system. There’s no nightlight in here, and the boys are used to sleeping with two (one on each side of the room), so Magnus waves a hand and the light from the lamp instantly dims to a faint glow.

Rafe looks a little bewildered as everyone starts shifting and rearranging around him, which gives Alec a thought. “Rafe, do you need anything from your room?”

Rafe starts chewing his lip again, which basically translates to ‘yes’. He looks down at his hands. “My giraffe?” he finally mumbles, sounding so _obviously_ afraid of being a nuisance.

“You mean _this_ giraffe?” Magnus asks playfully, producing the stuffed animal from behind Rafe’s back with a brief flicker of blue sparks.

Rafe’s mouth falls open with a tiny gasp, his eyes going wide. Then, he dissolves into giggles, taking the giraffe from Magnus with a grin. By the Angel, it’s so fucking cute it makes Alec’s chest ache. Rafe didn’t have much experience with magic, growing up in an Institute, and seeing it now is still delightfully novel for him. It can be a little strange to see the High Warlock of Brooklyn use his powers so trivially, but Alec knows that Magnus would reduce himself to pulling rabbits out of hats if he thought it might make Rafe smile.

By the time Alec gets back into bed, the boys have already rearranged themselves by some unspoken agreement, so Max is next to Magnus and Rafe is next to Alec. It’s how they always seem to end up, when they’re all on the couch, or at the dinner table. It’s just kind of their usual pattern. Always with the kids between them. Five weeks, and they’re already basically joined at the hip. Not that that’s a bad thing, in any way. Alec just hopes they don’t overdo themselves and end up completely sick of each other by the time they realize that this is their _life_ now, and not just some fun new setup to try out for a while.

Before anyone can get too comfortable, Alec leans over the bed to get Max’s attention. Because even though they’ve already gone through the bedtime routine once tonight, they’re technically going to bed again. Which means Alec needs to go through the routine again, or he’ll feel like a horrible father. “C’mere,” he says, which is enough for Max to catch on. He sits up and plants an unnecessarily loud kiss on Alec’s cheek, which Alec reciprocates with a similarly loud kiss on his forehead. Alec is still cautious about being too affectionate with Rafe, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, so he settles for ruffling his hair. Rafe doesn’t respond, but Alec can see him hide a smile against his giraffe.

With the bedtime routine sufficiently repeated, Alec settles back into his side of the bed (though now it’s just a small sliver by the edge), and tugs the blanket up over all of them. Rafe is on his side, curled up toward Alec, clutching his stuffed animal. Max is sprawled out on his back, one hand fisted in the pillowcase, the other rubbing absentmindedly at one of his still-growing horns - which are probably going to end up being quite impressive one day, but are currently just tiny little nubs on other side of his forehead. He frowns a little as he takes his hand away for a moment… but he gives in quickly and goes right back to rubbing and scratching the little horn, as habitual and comforting for him as it is for most kids to suck their thumb.

It’s… fuck. It’s so cute. It’s so goddamn cute and goddammit, how the fuck did Alec wind up with such fucking _adorable_ kids?

And Magnus is at the other end of the bed, happily letting Max take up way more space than he needs. Alec wonders how this must feel for Magnus. Because even though this is it now, this is their life, Alec knows that it’s still just a tiny chunk of the time that Magnus has lived in this loft. It’s been five years since Magnus first let Alec share his bed, and while that feels like such a huge portion of his life, he knows it’s nothing compared to how many years Magnus had spent here by himself. He wonders what it’s like for Magnus to be so used to having his bed to himself, and now he suddenly has an entire family smushed in here with him.

Well, Magnus is stretched out on his side, eyes closed, smiling peacefully as Max shifts restlessly beside him, so Alec thinks he probably doesn’t mind too much.

“Goodnight, boys,” Alec says as he adjusts his pillow.

“Goodnight, Dad,” Max and Magnus say in unison, though Magnus does so with a healthy dose of sarcasm.

Alec turns so Magnus can see his unimpressed look, but Magnus is just smiling at him. Smiling his little Alec-only smile. Which, of course, melts Alec’s hard look into a fairly dopey grin.

Rafe doesn’t respond at all to the goodnight (probably because he doesn’t refer to either of them as Dad or Papa yet), but he does snuggle in a little closer to Alec, which is more than enough for him.

Magnus holds Alec’s gaze a little longer. They just look at each other from across the crowded bed, their views somewhat blocked by the forms of their kids. Alec runs his thumb across his engagement ring, tucked under the blanket. It takes less than a full minute for Max to start snoring quietly. Magnus rolls his eyes at the sound, but he keeps looking at Alec. Keeps smiling Alec’s smile. And after a few moments, he winks, just before closing his eyes and snuggling up with Max, ready to drift back to sleep. Alec finally closes his own eyes. Finally gives in to the exhaustion he’s been fighting since he woke up. When he does, he feels Rafe slowly fist a hand in Alec’s shirt, pressing a little closer to him.

It’s…

Well.

All in all, it’s the nicest damn night Alec’s ever had.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In response to the last chapter, I specifically picked one of the fluffiest prompts I have. I hope it's sufficient. 
> 
> And since I didn't find a chance to specify in this chapter, it should be noted that George Bernard Paw is a girl. I'm a sucker for tiny female kittens having old man names.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s not alone.  
> It’s the first thought Magnus has, the first hint of awareness. Right as he starts to register that he’s awake, before he can even open his eyes, he knows that he isn’t the only one in this bed.

He’s not alone.

It’s the first thought Magnus has, the first hint of awareness. Right as he starts to register that he’s awake, before he can even open his eyes, he knows that he isn’t the only one in this bed. There’s weight on the pillow next to him. A patch of cool mattress that’s warmed by body heat.

He smiles. No, he’s definitely not alone.

Because Alexander Lightwood spent the night in his bed.

Magnus has never put much stock in any particular deity, but he’s pretty sure that there’s some higher power out there that deserves a tasteful thank-you card.

Because after six weeks, after six _long_ weeks of lingering goodbyes in the dead of night, after six weeks of kisses in the doorway that became nearly unbearable to end, after six weeks of mournfully uttered “I should probably go”s and “I have to go”s and “Magnus, I _really_ need to go”s, after six weeks of waxing hopefulness and waning patience… Alexander Lightwood had asked to spend the night with him.

Well, more accurately, he’d asked: “W-would it, ah. Be alright if… You can say no, but I thought maybe- um. I wanted… Could I stay… here? Tonight?” It had taken him a good twenty seconds to spit it all out. And he’d turned the most _precious_ shade of pink as he’d done it.

Magnus is smiling just thinking about it.

He’d been so shy.Yes, Alec is still shy about most things - particularly anything that’s new for him - but with this, he’d been…

Nervous. As though he thought Magnus might actually say no. As though Magnus might have actually said _no_ to Alexander asking to share his bed. The mere thought is laughable.

But Magnus hadn’t laughed. He’d just smiled, and said “That would be nice.”

And then Alexander had nervously tried to hide a smile, and quietly said “Really?” And Magnus had damn near lost his mind.

It’s one of the things he’ll remember. He’s certain of that. Even though it’s only been a month and a half, he already knows that there are _many_ things he’s going to remember about Alexander Lightwood.

Magnus still hasn’t opened his eyes. And he’s not going to. Not yet. He’s going to savor this. Savor these last few moments, the last moments of his life where he doesn’t know what it’s like to wake up next to Alec. Magnus imagines what he’ll look like. Whether he’ll still be sleeping peacefully, wrapped up in crimson sheets (which look so _exquisite_ against his skin), or if he’ll already be awake, groggily blinking sleep from his breathtaking eyes. The timing of Alexander’s usual ‘Good morning’ texts have left Magnus with the impression that Alec is a _much_ earlier riser than he is, so maybe he’s already wide awake. And just lying there, watching Magnus feign sleep.

The anticipation becomes too much. Magnus slowly opens his eyes.

The bedroom is bright, filled with sunshine - which must mean the door is open and the light is streaming in from the living room windows. Magnus is facing the wall, facing _away_ from the body heat next to him. Once his eyes have fully adjusted to the bright morning, he turns over, already smiling, pulse fluttering eagerly-

Chairman Meow is sleeping on the pillow next to him. Just Chairman Meow. No one else.

Well, that’s certainly an anticlimax.

Magnus glances around the room, but to his _immense_ disappointment, Alexander is nowhere to be seen.

Anticlimax indeed.

The bathroom door is open and the light is off. Magnus pauses for a moment, but he can’t hear any noise coming from outside the bedroom.

This might just be the worst thing that’s ever happened to him.

He knows Alec hasn’t left. Hell, with how much of a struggle it was for him to ask to stay, Magnus assumes it’ll be quite an experience getting him to leave. The poor dear was so worried that his presence might be an inconvenience that he probably won’t leave without making some ridiculous display of gratitude, making his stay somehow _worthwhile_ to Magnus (like his mere existence doesn’t already have that covered). He’s probably out on the balcony washing the windows at this very moment. The thought, while ridiculous, is _unbearably_ sweet.

That being said, the thought that Magnus might have to leave his cushy, warm bed before he gets to see Alec is downright horrific. He’d spent all damn night anticipating how incredible it would be to wake up next to a warm, sleepy Alec Lightwood, and he’s not at all pleased to find that he’s been robbed of his just-woken-up cuddling. It’s cruel, really. Horribly cruel.

Right as he’s about to start complaining about his awful predicament to Chairman Meow, there’s a faint noise. A clatter that echoes in from somewhere far away in the loft. It might be - the noise happens again, louder this time - it sounds like it might be a cupboard closing. Magnus waits, holding his breath, as the noise happens yet again…

And is followed by the sound of footsteps.

Soft, hesitant footsteps. Bare feet on wood floors. Walking through the loft, and-

Oh, _yes._

Coming closer.

All of his previous attempts to emotionally prepare himself for the sight of early-morning Alec prove completely useless, because he feels his heartbeat quicken as the footsteps get closer, which is just _pathetic,_ honestly. But he can’t make himself care because Alexander comes into view, standing in the doorway, and-

Magnus inhales sharply.

Alec obviously wasn’t expecting Magnus to be awake, because he takes a hesitant sort of half-step backward, eyes a little wide. His hair is a mess, mussed in every direction, flat on one side where his head had rested on Magnus’s pillow. He doesn’t really look sleepy per se, but there’s something about his posture, something unusually lax and sloppy, like the soldier in him hasn’t quite woken up yet.

And he’s wearing nothing but his horrific black boxers. Magnus feels a little guilty, because Alec wasn’t planning on being on display like this, and he’s still not terribly comfortable with being undressed in front of him. But Magnus is weak, and he can’t resist letting his eyes roam over a sight like _this._

Everything about Alexander is long and lean, carefully maintained to utter _perfection._ Muscles that fit his frame so beautifully, not looking bulky or excessive, just… capable. Alexander’s physique doesn’t really make him look ‘strong’. That word implies danger and bravado and a careless roughness. None of that describes Alec. His body doesn’t look rough at all. He looks careful. Prepared. Ready to protect, to do what he has to do, but never to be reckless about it. Never to be powerful just for the sake of it, even though there’s clearly so much power coiled up in his body. He doesn’t show off any of it. He keeps it hidden, somehow. It’s amazing how he can be so tall, so toned, yet still hold himself like he’s _small._ Insignificant. It’s unusual to see so little presence from someone who looks like this.

Hell, it’s unusual to see anyone who looks like _this_ at all. Magnus has long been a connoisseur of the human form, but Alexander… He is something else. The broad expanse of his chest, the enticing pattern of his runes, the honest-to-god washboard abs, the _perfect_ little trail of hair that draws Magnus’s eyes down his stomach, following where it disappears into the waistband of those hideous boxers, all the way down to the _longest_ goddamn legs Magnus has ever seen-

Fuck the thank-you card. Whoever is responsible for this boy is getting one of those baskets of fruit that’s shaped like flowers.

Magnus lets himself look Alec over once more, experimentally, just to see if… No. It doesn’t matter. No matter where his eyes happen to land on Alexander’s body, he wants to get his mouth on it. He knows he’ll never be truly satisfied until he tastes every goddamn inch of him.

Magnus realizes that the smile on his face is starting to feel downright predatory (which would explain the quickly-increasing color in Alec’s cheeks), so he takes a deep breath to calm himself.

“Good morning, Alexander,” he says lightly, and he’s a little _too_ proud of himself for not making any comment about how damn _edible_ Alec looks right now.

But Alec swallows visibly and averts his gaze, like ‘good morning’ somehow counts as utterly scandalous flirtation. “Um… hi.”

God.

_God._

It should be illegal for a grown man to be this fucking cute.

‘Hi.’

Just a handful of hours ago, Alexander had come all over Magnus’s _face,_ and now the first thing he can think of to say is ‘hi’. It’s enough to turn Magnus’s calm smile into a ridiculous grin.

“I feel I must point out,” Magnus says, making sure his voice is clearly teasing, “that it’s more than a little disappointing to fall asleep next to a gorgeous young man, and wake up with only a lousy _cat_ in my bed.” He’ll apologize to Chairman Meow for that later.

Alec’s eyes widen, and Magnus isn’t sure if he doesn’t realize he was being teased, or if this is just how he responds to a gentle joke. “I- uh. Well, I… I’ve-” He clears his throat, and Magnus’s heart flops around in his chest. “I’ve been awake for a while. And I- I… ah. I thought it’d be,” Alec’s hand waves uselessly at his side, in that _adorable_ way it does when he can’t get his words sorted out fast enough. “I thought it’d be… nice. To make breakfast? Or something?” His gaze drops back down to his own feet. “But that was too… much. I didn’t want to mess up your kitchen or anything. So I thought I could just make coffee, that’d still be. Nice.” He brings his hand up to the back of his head, like he’s either scratching at his scalp or tugging at his hair. “But, ah, then I realized…”

“That I don’t have a coffee maker?” Magnus suggests with a playful smirk.

And Alec _laughs._ Just once. One quiet, embarrassed laugh as his hand drops to his side. “Yeah. That.” There’s a lopsided little smile on his face. “And I didn’t know what else to do, so I just… came back. In here.”

“Well, it’s a good thing that you did.” Magnus stretches a little, trying to get the sleepy crick out of his back. And if the movement happens to tug the sheet a little further down his bare torso… and if Alexander’s gaze _happens_ to slip down with it… well. That’s hardly Magnus’s fault. “Something you should know about me is that I require _many_ kisses before I can properly get out of bed.” He raises one eyebrow, hoping he’s successfully skirting the line between ‘enticing’ and ‘bold enough to scare Alec away permanently’.

To his utter delight, Alec blushes a beautiful shade of pink, covering him in uneven patches from his chest all the way to his ears. It’s terribly endearing. Honestly, Magnus only _mentioned_ kissing. By now, kissing really should be familiar enough to be comfortable (at least comfortable enough to not get a reaction like this). But Magnus understands that this is a wildly different context than Alexander is used to, and the poor darling must feel completely wrong-footed.

As if to confirm this, Alec’s hand goes back to his head, just one of his _many_ nervous tics that is so inexplicably charming. “I…” His mouth drops open, and his jaw moves a little, but no sound comes out. His blush only seems to intensify. “That’s probably not… I, um. I have really bad morning breath.”

And, well, Magnus can’t resist. “Morning breath? Are you sure?” He lifts himself up on one elbow and holds out his other hand toward Alec, grinning. “Here, let me check for you.” All in all, it’s not the suavest pick-up line he’s ever used…

But it pays off _beautifully,_ because Alexander laughs, startled and loud and so wonderfully pleased. Magnus still isn’t sure what he’s done to deserve hearing a sound like this, but it’s not as though he’s going to complain.

However, even though he’s laughing easily and his blush is starting to fade, Alec doesn’t actually move. He’s dawdling in the doorway, shifting a little from foot to foot, looking so awkward and uncertain and _hopeful_ and goddammit, Magnus has been careful to respect all of Alexander’s boundaries so far but if he doesn’t get his adorable ass in this bed soon Magnus is going to magic up a lasso and _drag him in._

That ends up not being necessary, because Alexander mercifully doesn’t linger by the door much longer. With a faint, almost shy smile, he walks over to the bed. Unfortunately, he _doesn’t_ immediately lie down right on top of Magnus and start kissing him breathless (which is what Magnus would prefer). He just stands next to the bed, rests one knee on the mattress, and takes Magnus’s outstretched hand. And while it might not be _exactly_ what Magnus was hoping for, that small bit of contact somehow manages to outdo all of his expectations.

Alec moves forward a bit, like he’s going to lean down and _finally_ do something about how tragically un-kissed and un-cuddled Magnus is right now, but then he stops. He just stands there, half-kneeling on the bed, gently holding Magnus’s hand, and looking at him. His eyes wander slowly across Magnus’s face, like he’s really taking in the sight of him, somehow looking like he’s seeing him for the first time.

Ah. Of course.

Alexander has never seen him in the morning before.

Which means he’s never seen the smeared, cracked, caked _mess_ of unwashed makeup before. Or the bedhead - which can get downright _epic_ with the amount of product Magnus uses. Yes, Magnus usually cleans himself up before bedtime, because he’s civilized like that.

But last night, there was something more… important to be doing.

He smirks. There was some _one_ more important to be doing.

He’s a night showerer by nature, but unless Alexander was going to get into the shower with him (and Magnus knows damn well he’s not comfortable enough for that yet), it just wasn’t worth it. So he hadn’t washed any of it off. Yes, most of his lipstick ended up somewhere on Alec’s body before the night was over, but apart from that, it’s all still on his face.

It’s probably quite a sight.

And not in a charming, ‘oh, you look pretty regardless’ sort of way. Not in an artistic, stylized way, like how the movies always portray the morning-after glow. Not carefully mussed hair, and one smear of mascara in just the right spot. This is nothing like that.

This is a disaster.

Magnus hasn’t actually seen himself, but he doesn’t need a mirror to know that he’s got raccoon eyes and hair that looks like it’s been in a tornado. There’s nothing cute about this.

But that awareness just makes him smile, smile at Alexander’s adorably dumbfounded expression.

Because this is an honor.

Well, that word might be a touch dramatic. It’s more of a… privilege. It’s a privilege to get to see Magnus like this. Only a handful of people have ever been allowed to see him look this disheveled, this _bad._ It’s certainly not allowed to any of his casual encounters or one night stands (if they even end up staying until morning - which is hardly a guarantee - Magnus has a strict policy of waking up before them to carefully fix his appearance). But even in his more serious relationships, it’s always a significant moment. A step. One that Magnus considers as carefully as any other step in a relationship.

It’s not that Magnus is embarrassed. He burned out his ability to feel shame a few hundred years ago. It’s just not something he wants to be general knowledge. People don’t need to be aware that the High Warlock of Brooklyn is an actual _person_ under the exquisite facade. He knows perfectly well that his carefully cultivated mystique is a large part of his power - or at least how his power is perceived. There’s no point in weakening his image by letting any passer-by see him with bedhead, like some sort of _normal_ human.

But Alexander Lightwood is no passer-by.

It should be frightening, really, how eager Magnus is for Alec to see him like this. Not just ‘this’ in the literal sense, the smeared makeup and messy hair, but ‘this’ in the bigger, metaphorical sense. He’s eager for Alec to see him in an open, honest sort of way. He wants Alec to see him as a person, in the simplest terms. It should be downright _terrifying_ to feel like this. And in some sense, he supposes it is.

It’s almost like a joke. A grand, cosmic joke. Because after spending an unfortunately lengthy portion of his lengthy life trying to convince the nephilim that he’s worthy of respect, after _centuries_ trying to prove that he isn’t just a convenient parlor trick, that he’s powerful, that he’s a force to be reckoned with…

He’d met Alexander Lightwood.

Now suddenly there’s a shadowhunter who’s respected him from the first moment, who’s seen his magic - and not only does he not cower away from it, he actually works _with_ it - and acknowledges his ability. After centuries of the same bullshit, there’s a shadowhunter who honestly _respects_ him as a warlock.

And all Magnus wants to do is tear that down. To rip off every layer of the High Warlock that he’s crafted so meticulously and just be a _person_ again. Alexander is a reversal of everything Magnus has ever known. A shadowhunter who acknowledges his power. A shadowhunter who sees Magnus as an equal. No, not even that. He sees Magnus as some sort of… better. He thinks Magnus is too good for him. Alexander Lightwood is a nephilim who honestly thinks that he’s unworthy of the affection of a downworlder.

Alexander Lightwood is an _impossibility._

The idea of this beautiful, _beautiful_ boy thinking he’s unworthy of anyone is enough to make Magnus’s blood boil. He’s spent centuries trying to convince nephilim that no, they aren’t special, they aren’t Raziel’s gift to the world, they don’t inherently deserve a moment of Magnus’s time…  and now here he is, absolutely desperate to convince a young shadowhunter (and a Lightwood at that) just how much he’s worth.

And that most certainly includes the privilege of seeing Magnus look like a trainwreck first thing in the morning. Magnus thinks Alec might be more worthy of this particular sight than anyone else who’s seen it.

Because it’s been almost a full minute now, and Alec still hasn’t stopped looking. He’s still resting against the bed, holding Magnus’s hand, looking at him. And he looks so serious about it. Well, Alec tends to look serious about damn near everything, but this is different. This is the look he gets when he truly focuses on something. When he knows something is important. It’s enough to make Magnus think that maybe, just maybe, he might understand the significance of what Magnus is letting him see. Alexander has always been too perceptive for his own good, even if he doesn’t realize it. It wouldn’t surprise Magnus at all for him to understand something like this without having to be told.

The moment continues to stretch out, and Alec’s gorgeous eyes keep traveling steadily across Magnus’s face, taking in every detail. There’s a brief moment where his gaze makes it down to Magnus’s chest, but then-

Oh, darling. _Sweetheart._

Alexander’s face colors right up again, in those charming, mismatched splotches of red. And his eyes snap down to the carpet, avoiding Magnus entirely, almost… like he’s guilty.

Like he’s guilty for looking too eagerly at Magnus’s bare flesh, quite possibly because said flesh is absolutely covered in hickeys. Darling, _precious_ Alexander is too embarrassed to look at the hickeys he’d put on Magnus with his own damn mouth not twelve hours ago. It’s enough to make Magnus’s stomach churn with butterflies.

And if Alexander doesn’t put him out of his misery and fucking _kiss him_ soon, he’s going to-

The rest of that thought becomes irrelevant, because Alec’s lower lip briefly disappears between his teeth. And that’s his tell. Magnus isn’t sure if it’s an attempt to wet his lips, or yet another one of his nervous tics, but he knows by now that it means a kiss is mere seconds away.

Those seconds feel like sweet _agony_ as Alec starts to lean in. He’s still half-standing, and Magnus is still propped up on one elbow, so there’s quite a bit of distance between them. Far too much distance, Magnus realizes, as it seems to take _ages_ for Alec to get anywhere near him. And while patience is one of Magnus’s more refined virtues, this is neither the time nor the place for it. So he straightens the bent arm that’s propping him up, pushing up until he’s almost sitting. It gets him _significantly_ closer to Alexander’s lips, but still not quite there.

Much to his dismay, Alec responds by letting go of Magnus’s hand. For a moment, he’s afraid that he’d somehow managed to misread the situation (which shouldn’t really be possible, since he’d flat-out _asked_ for a kiss, hadn’t he?).

But apparently, Alec just needed his hands for other purposes. Because he brings one to the side of Magnus’s face, his fingers resting right below Magnus’s jaw, his thumb softly brushing across Magnus’s cheek. And he lifts the other up to Magnus’s hair, hesitating for a moment, before trailing his fingers through the mess, stopping when he gets caught in tangles and-

Smiling. Smiling a bright, crooked smile. As he gently combs his fingers through Magnus’s bedhead.

“Alexander,” Magnus whispers, because it suddenly feels like he's going to suffocate if he doesn't say something.

Alec’s eyes dart to Magnus’s lips. But, infuriatingly, he still doesn’t move. Regardless of the situation, Alec is still so terribly cautious about initiating kisses. He does _do_ it, eventually, but it always takes such a to-do. Magnus doesn’t know if it’s that he needs to gather the courage, or if he just _really_ enjoys drawing out the pre-kiss anticipation as long as he can…

Or quite possibly, if he’d used up all of his initiative on the first go. It’d be understandable to think that initiating his first ever kiss by stopping his own wedding and locking lips with a downworlder (and a male one at that) in front of his parents and all of Christendom might have depleted Alexander’s moxy. It may take him a while yet to replenish his supply of gumption.

That being said, he’s been cradling Magnus’s face in his warm hands and slowly leaning in for what feels to be about twenty years now. Magnus certainly wouldn’t mind him showing a _bit_ more assertiveness.

But it’s hard to be too upset when Alexander’s fingers bury a little more firmly in Magnus’s hair. Right as his eyes are fluttering closed. And his lips are parting, ever so slightly…

There’s certainly something to be said for a truly skillful build up of anticipation, because the very _instant_ he feels Alexander’s lips touch his, Magnus whimpers. He actually _whimpers_ at this chaste kiss, this kiss so gentle that they’re hardly even making contact. But this is the kiss he’s been waiting for since he first woke up. Hell, he’s been waiting a lot longer than that. He’s been waiting for six weeks now. Waiting for this.

The Good Morning kiss. Alexander’s _first_ Good Morning kiss.

And… well. It’s certainly worth the wait. It’s the kind of kiss you’d write about in a diary.

Hm. Magnus might start keeping a diary just so he can write about this kiss.

Magnus’s lower lip is between Alec’s, but it’s not an open kiss. And while it’s _plenty_ nice as it is, Magnus can’t help but worry that Alexander is genuinely embarrassed about morning breath. And Magnus certainly can’t have that. So he parts his lips, just enough to touch the tip of his tongue to Alec’s upper lip. It’s not insistent, just an offer.

Alexander freezes, inhaling through his nose. But after a moment’s hesitation, he breaks the kiss, tilts his face to the other side, and comes back in for another. And this time, his mouth is open.

Magnus groans his approval of the new situation and immediately brushes his tongue against Alec’s. He can’t help but smile a little into the kiss, because, _yes,_ there’s definitely a sour tang. But with Alexander enthusiastically licking further into his mouth and _moaning_ against his lips, it’s not as though Magnus actually cares.

After a few moments, Magnus realizes that it can hardly be very comfortable for Alec to be leaning over the bed like this, straining his neck to stoop far enough. Magnus wants to encourage him to find a nicer position without having to take his mouth away long enough to speak, so he starts lowering himself back down onto the bed, making sure the movement is slow enough that Alexander won’t accidentally think that he’s trying to pull away from him. His intentions are purely altruistic. He’s only trying to make Alexander comfortable, he’s _not_ using it as an excuse to get him horizontal, or to encourage things to go further than Alec wants-

But apparently his intentions are meaningless, because as soon as he starts leaning back, Alexander outright _smothers_ him. With a deep, throaty groan, he just sort of… collapses forward onto the bed. He settles himself between Magnus’s legs and presses him into the mattress and kisses him so fucking _deeply_ that Magnus literally can’t breathe.

For a moment, Magnus is so goddamn stunned (because honestly, Alexander just _pounced_ on him) that all he can do is lie there. But once his body catches up with his mind and gets with the program, he arches up against Alexander’s body. He lifts his legs to wrap them around Alec’s waist-

Right. He’s still covered in the fucking sheet. There’s a traitorous layer of silk separating their lower bodies, and the separation is _torturous._

Alec catches on instantly, and tries to kick the sheet away, but only succeeds in getting it tangled up in his legs. “Dammit,” he mutters, his movements getting more and more flail-y in the struggle. _“Dammit,”_ he repeats, louder this time, followed by breathless laughter.

Magnus lets him uselessly fight the sheet for a few more moments. Because his laugh is just so charming, and it’s making Magnus laugh right along with him. When Alexander finally gives up and inelegantly flops down on top of Magnus in limp surrender, Magnus finally takes pity on him. He snaps his fingers, and the sheet disappears for a moment, like a flicker, a glitch in its existence. With a flash of blue, it reappears, this time on top of _both_ of them, instead of between them. Magnus would prefer to send the thing halfway to Jersey, but he knows Alexander still isn’t comfortable feeling too exposed. Magnus thinks he might appreciate a little something to cover him up, even if it’s only from the waist down.

Alec is still laughing, little giggles interspersed with gasping breaths, but he quiets down when the sheet gently lands on him. He glances down at it, then looks at Magnus…

With a small, devastatingly sincere smile.

Well. Gesture appreciated, then.

With the obstacle of the sheet successfully circumvented, Magnus uses his freedom of mobility to lazily twine his ankles around the backs of Alexander’s legs. Not quite enough to pull their bodies together entirely, but enough to keep him close. With a gentle smirk, he trails one hand up Alec’s arm, grazing his skin lightly, not stopping until his fingers are buried in Alec’s messy hair. And he lets his other arm flop dramatically to the side, trying to communicate ‘Just fucking _ravish_ me already’ as clearly as possible.

Of course, that one movement, that one little flop of his arm is what _finally_ disturbs Chairman Meow, who has apparently been perfectly content to lie next to Magnus’s head during all this smooching. The voyeuristic little furball. He springs to his feet, trying his best to hiss even though he’s just woken up and the sound is distinctly sleepy.

“Oh, go on. Shoo.” Magnus pokes Chairman Meow’s side gently to encourage him to get down from the bed. “This doesn’t concern you anyway.”

Chairman Meow turns sharply, flicking his extremely fluffy tail right in Magnus’s face. But Magnus supposes he deserves it, for kicking him out of his bed. After all, Chairman Meow has been sleeping with him for almost a year. Alexander’s only slept with him once. Magnus hates to admit it, but the cat clearly has seniority.

Nonetheless, Chairman Meow leaps lightly from the bed and scampers out into the loft, tail swishing wildly to make sure his displeasure is obvious.

“Now,” Magnus says with a dry chuckle, “where were w- _mphf-”_

Alexander dives back in, kissing Magnus fiercely before he can even finish the question.

Magnus makes a surprised in the back of his throat, which unfortunately makes Alec pull away, like he’s afraid he’s done something wrong. As soon as his lips are free, Magnus quickly says, “Yes, that seems about right,” and reels him back in.

Alec must be a little thrown, because he’s laughing against Magnus’s mouth. He makes an effort to really _participate_ in the kiss, nipping at Magnus’s lower lip and running one hand down Magnus’s side… but the little bubbles of laughter make it difficult, throwing him adorably off-balance.

That is, until he grabs Magnus’s thigh and hitches it up against his waist. Because that’s when he finally lowers himself down all the way, finally gives in and really grinds their bodies together-

Alec gasps, breaking away from the kiss to glance down, eyes a little wide.

Which seems like a bit of an overreaction to Magnus. Alexander may be inexperienced, but he certainly had to be aware that morning wood is a thing. Magnus has been somewhere around half-hard since he woke up, and Alexander’s enthusiastic kisses have been more than enough to make his cock strain against the confines of his pretty satin panties.

But Alec clearly just _wasn’t_ expecting it, because he’s frozen over Magnus. And he’s blushing again, the color deepening with every passing second. And if Alexander’s blood is going to be rushing anywhere right now, Magnus certainly doesn’t think it should be to his _face._

Although…

These circumstances are new for Alec. Magnus has to keep reminding himself of that. Yes, Alec has gotten very comfortable with stopping things when he wants them to stop, and by now they’ve both developed a fairly in-tune physical shorthand for slowing things down before they can get too intense. But this is the first time Alec has spent the morning with him, the first time he’s woken up after a night of truly _wonderful_ sex, and the first time he’s initiated a kiss and found Magnus _already_ hard for him. Magnus can’t help but worry that Alexander might feel somewhat… obligated, by the nature of the situation. They’ve already had sex once since Alec’s been here, and now they’re starting off the morning already undressed and aroused, already _several_ steps into their usual progression of intimacy. It might just be enough to make Alec think that he’s not allowed to say no, that the rules of this new scenario require him to take things further. Further than he may want.

Then again, he might just be surprised that there’s suddenly a hard, barely-clothed dick for him to grind against.

But… just in case. Just in case there’s anything unsavory rattling around in Alec’s brain, Magnus takes stock of the situation, and tries to make it as easy to de-escalate as possible. Alexander is still holding Magnus’s leg, still keeping it hooked around his waist, but Magnus untangles his other leg and lets it rest to the side. Normally, when he wants to let Alec decide if they’re going to take things further, he makes sure they’re both lying on their sides. He’s found that it’s the easiest position for Alexander to slowly pull away from, since it’s so easy to switch from a good make-out session to gentle cuddling like that. So he nudges his leg against Alec’s waist, trying to use the leverage he already has to tip them over-

And the moment he presses against him, Alexander unfreezes. He gives a helpless whine, and ducks down to kiss Magnus again. _Hard._ Deep and desperate and _delicious._ And he grinds his hips against Magnus’s, gasping like he’s shocked by the pleasure of his own action.

Well then. Apparently he’s _not_ interested in slowing things down.

Fair enough. Magnus certainly doesn’t mind.

Reassured that Alec is comfortable with what they’re doing, Magnus finally lets himself go a little. Both of his legs wrap nice and tight around Alec’s waist, heels pressing into his _spectacular_ ass, encouraging him to rut as hard and fast as his heart desires. Magnus keeps one hand thoroughly tangled in Alec’s hair, and slips the other one under Alec’s arm, so he can run his fingers along the shape of Alec’s spine - and every now and then, so he can rake his nails down Alec’s back and hear the enchanting noise he makes in response.

It all falls into place so quickly. Shockingly quickly, if Magnus thinks about it. In what can only be a handful of seconds, they’ve already established a perfect rhythm. Rocking and thrusting against each other, both hard in their underwear (and that certainly hadn’t taken very long for Alexander, now had it?), kissing in a way that’s so passionate it’s downright sinful… but still doesn’t feel frantic at all. It feels…

Comfortable. So delectably comfortable.

This is it.

This is what Magnus had been missing. For so long.

He doesn’t dislike being single. Actually, in many ways, he prefers it. But there are some things, some small details of being in a relationship that he just hasn’t been able to replicate in any other context.

And this is one of them. The easy, relaxed intimacy that only comes from familiarity. There’s something almost casual about it, which is strange, because he’s only ever been able to find it in _non-_ casual sex. It takes all the physical intensity of really, _really_ great fucking, but with none of the urgency. None of the expectation. None of the capacity for disappointment. For Magnus, the best casual sex in the world can’t possibly compete with the feeling of _this,_ this moment, right now.

There’s no substitute for knowing someone like this. Yes, he and Alexander are very much still getting to know each other, still learning each other’s physical preferences (and for Alexander, learning his _own_ preferences), but there’s so much that they’ve already established. And there’s something so comforting to Magnus about already knowing _exactly_ where to scrape his teeth on Alexander’s neck to make him gasp. Or knowing that even the lightest touch to his nipple will make him-

“Ah! _Magnus…_ ”

Yeah, just like that.

Magnus could easily let the entire day go by without stopping. They must spend a good fifteen minutes like that. Alexander lying over Magnus, his hands _everywhere,_ kissing him so beautifully, his whole body arching in a continuous wave as he thrusts their hips together so _deliciously_ slowly, only ever breaking away to groan out Magnus’s name…

It’s paradise, really. Simple as that.

However, while a few hundred years have given Magnus impeccable control over his physical needs, by the time they near the twenty-five minute mark, he can’t help but wonder if this is as far as they’re going to get. He’ll be completely fine if Alexander doesn’t want any more than this, but he’d like to know sooner rather than later either way.

So he uses the usual method. He breaks away from Alec’s mouth, trailing sloppy kisses down his cheek. Alec must get the idea, because he tilts his head back, giving Magnus easy access to his neck. And since Magnus can never quite resist his defense rune - such a perfect little design across Alexander’s throat that it might as well be a goddamn ‘Lick Here’ sign - he attaches his lips to it immediately. After grazing it with his teeth, he lets himself suck, just a little bit, not only because a bruise wouldn’t be visible here, but because Alec’s runes are all so _sensitive,_ just a little bit of teasing is enough to make Alec whimper above him.

Normally, he’ll indulge himself for a few more moments, to get Alexander really worked up. Worked up enough that no matter what he wants, no matter how forward or selfish or _dirty_ it may seem to him, he has the courage to say it, because he’s so damn desperate. By now, Magnus can tell exactly when Alec starts writhing just enough to let him know that it’s the right moment. That he can ask, ‘What do you want, Alexander?’ ‘What do you want me to do?’ ‘How do you want me, Alec?’ And Alec will choke out whatever he’s been too shy to ask for himself.

It takes less than a minute for Alec to reach that point. He stops thrusting against Magnus, and just sort of grinds his hips down instead, like he can’t control his body. One of his hands is squeezing Magnus’s arm, so tightly that it’s almost starting to hurt. And he’s exhaling these tiny little sighs, over and over again, with every breath.

Magnus smirks against Alec’s throat, and gives his rune one last little lick. He opens his mouth to speak-

“Wh-What you did… last night,” Alec stammers between shaky gasps, before Magnus can even get a word out. “I want… Could you- would you want to…?”

Last night. Last night was the first time that Magnus had…

Oh, this is… This is Christmas morning. This is a candy store, this is a goddamn dream come true.

Magnus tightens the hold that he still has in Alec’s hair, and uses his grip to tilt Alec’s face. Just far enough for Magnus to bring his lips _right_ against Alec's ear. “You want me to use my mouth?” he whispers, and it takes a ridiculous amount of self-control to keep his voice low and even. It won’t do to let any of his desperate eagerness come through in his tone.

And dear, sweet Alexander moans so loudly. Just at the words. Magnus can’t even comprehend how much Alec must want this, since this is the first time he’s actually _asked_ for something without being prompted. And something he wants Magnus to do to him, no less. Alec has always been far more eager to please Magnus than to let Magnus please him. While he definitely understands that sex is a give-and-take, he’s still trying to really grasp the _take_ part of it.

And now here he is, flat-out asking Magnus for a blowjob. Only a handful of hours after receiving one for the very first time. Magnus can’t help but feel a small flicker of pride at that. He knows sucking dick is one of his specialities, but it’s always nice to know his talent is _truly_ appreciated.

But Alec didn’t actually answer his question. And Magnus may be nice, but he can’t pass up an opportunity like this. He keeps his hand in Alec’s hair, keeps Alec’s ear to his lips, and slowly arches up against his body. “Do you want me to suck you off, Alexander?”

Alec sounds almost _hurt,_ crying out and whimpering frantically. “If- oh _fuck-_  if you…” he gasps, “if you want to.”

This boy is too precious to be _real._

And yet… that _still_ isn’t technically an answer. Not the answer Magnus wants, anyway.

He sucks Alec’s earlobe between his teeth, giving it just enough of a nibble to leave a nice sting. And he’s rewarded with a truly lovely groan. “Alexander,” he whispers again, licking delicately at Alec’s ear between words, “do _you_ want it?”

And then he finally pulls away, because he has a sneaky suspicion that he’ll want to see this.

Unsurprisingly, he's right.

Alexander is flushed from head to toe, wide-eyed, open-mouthed, and gasping for each breath. He’s exquisite. He’s a work of art. And he’s _desperate._ Magnus knows it still isn’t easy for him to say things like this, but he’s getting better about it, and Magnus will do just about anything to encourage him. Even if it means he has to embarrass him a little along the way. He certainly looks plenty embarrassed now. But Magnus doesn’t relent. He just looks at him, waiting patiently (even though he’s probably as excited about this as Alexander is). And, to give him a bit more incentive, Magnus opens his mouth and slowly runs his tongue across his lower lip.

Alec’s eyes flutter closed with a pained whimper. “Fuck, yes. Yes, _please_ yes, Magnus. I want you to- please, I want you to suck me off. I want it-”

 _“Darling,”_ Magnus moans, unable to keep himself from lurching up to kiss Alec as deeply as he can. Because that… that was the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. Ever. _Ever._ Four hundred years and change, and nothing has ever sounded so gorgeous.

The casual intimacy Magnus had been so pleased with before has dissipated entirely. This is frantic. This is urgent. This is the most important thing that’s ever happened, and it needs to happen _now._

This time, when Magnus starts to push Alexander over, he goes willingly, looping an arm around Magnus’s waist and flipping them in one smooth movement. Alec spreads his legs the moment his back hits the mattress, pushing his hips up, doing everything he possibly can to try and encourage Magnus further down.

Well, Magnus certainly doesn’t need to be told twice. Hell, in a situation like this, he barely needs to be told once.

His first impulse is to shimmy down the bed and get Alec’s cock into his mouth immediately, possibly without even taking off his boxers first. But there’s a way these things are done. And he certainly wants to use best form. Only the best for Alexander. Always.

So he exercises _amazing_ self-control, and starts at Alec’s chest. Normally, he’d start at the neck, but he’s already given that plenty of attention this morning, so he figures he can be forgiven for overlooking it now. The collarbone will do just fine as a starting point.

Alexander certainly seems to agree, because at the first touch of Magus’s tongue to his skin, he hisses through his teeth, slow and sharp.

It’s a fair start, but Magnus knows they can do better than that.

He leaves a trail of sloppy, wet kisses across Alec’s chest, more tongue than lips, really. He spends a _significantly_ longer time on each of his nipples, kissing and licking and biting and touching and doing every damn thing he can think of, because he knows it’ll leave Alexander positively incoherent.

And he’s proven absolutely right. From the sound of it, Alec can barely even breathe. It sometimes sounds like he’s trying to speak, but nothing understandable ever comes out, except…

Once or twice, Magnus gets to hear his name. He gets to hear Alexander _groan_ and gasp his name.

It’s been a long time since Magnus has been with someone who made him lose his hold over his magic. Normally, it’s like any other voluntary action, something he chooses to do. His magic obeys his desires.

Until it doesn’t. When he loses control, it’s like… a reflex. Like gasping when something startles him. It’s an involuntary reflex in response to particularly shocking pleasure. A small wave of magic pulses out from- from wherever his magic is kept inside him, he’s not entirely sure. And it’s directionless. It does things sometimes, but not because Magnus wants it to. It’s an indiscriminate burst of power. He’s worked hard over the years to control it, because honestly, it’s a little dangerous. He can still remember the first orgasm he’d ever had - when he’d been so stunned that he accidentally cracked every window in a half-mile radius. That certainly hasn’t happened again. For the most part, _nothing_ happens anymore. Because nothing surprises him anymore.

And then, of course, Alexander fucking Lightwood happened. And Magnus feels like the horny teenager he never was. Except instead of worrying about coming in his pants, he worries about blasting all the walls out of the building.

As if on cue, Alexander lets out a particularly _filthy_ little moan. “Magnus, _Magnus-”_ he makes a choking noise, like he accidentally swallowed the rest of his sentence. “Too much. It’s… _fuck,_ it’s too good. Please, just… Please, Magnus.” And he writhes under Magnus’s mouth, like he’s simultaneously trying to move away _and_ get more from him.

Magnus feels heat pool in his fingertips, like a magical gun being loaded, letting him know it’s ready to fire at any time. He forces the feeling down, taking a deep breath until the tingle dissipates from his hands. “Of course, sweetheart, I know,” he mutters, giving one last _chaste_ kiss to Alec’s chest.

And he does know. He knows Alec must be trying to prevent a repeat of last night, of his first blowjob. Magnus had done his best to explain that no one has any stamina the first time they do _anything,_ and that he shouldn’t expect to last very long. And sure enough, like every other human being in the history of the world, Alexander’s first blowjob lasted all of ninety seconds before he came, so goddamn suddenly that the majority of it had spattered across Magnus’s nose and cheek (to his utter delight, and to Alexander’s utter _horror_ ). And despite all of Magnus’s warnings and assurances, the poor dear had been so terribly embarrassed about it.

Magnus wonders if that’s partly why he was so eager to do this again. As a chance to prove that he can last longer this time.

Well, Magnus has certainly given blowjobs for less noble purposes than that. He can’t really complain.

So he doesn’t tease Alexander any further, doesn’t get him any more wound up. On the contrary, he leans back a bit, putting an inch or two of distance between their bodies, giving him a chance to cool off. But because there really _is_ a way these things are done, Magnus can’t keep himself from continuing his downward trail of kisses. However, these ones are significantly more innocent. He follows the line of Alexander’s abs (and what a _lovely_ little path to follow), indulging himself by dipping his tongue lightly into his navel, until he finally reaches the top of his boxers.

Good lord, these boxers are atrocious.

Magnus can’t help but smile. At least he won’t be looking at them for long.

He’s kneeling between Alec’s spread legs, crouched over himself a little uncomfortably. But he doesn’t want to settle in just yet. He looks back up at Alec, steadying himself so he won’t be distracted by however phenomenal he might look right now-

Oh, shit. It’s worse than he expected.

Alexander is biting his lower lip, breathing heavily, his eyes lidded and so horribly eager.

God, this boy will be the death of him.

And Magnus is well aware that Alexander doesn’t even _know._ He has no goddamn clue how he looks right now. He probably doesn’t think he could be sexy if he tried.

But that’s the thing. He doesn’t try. Magnus doesn’t think he’s _ever_ tried to be enticing, that he’s ever done anything in hopes of getting a reaction out of Magnus. Which means that everything he’s done that’s driven Magnus so goddamn crazy has been unintentional. He has no idea how goddamn fucking seductive it is for him to bite his lip like that, to give Magnus the slightest view of his tongue between his lips before shyly looking away. It’s all done so innocently. He has no idea how much power he has over Magnus.

So Magnus can’t even _imagine_ how dangerous Alec will be when he figures it out. When he really _knows_ how to push Magnus’s buttons. When he learns just the right way to bat his eyelashes, to swallow so his Adam's apple bobs in his sweat-glistened throat, to arch his back so his muscles strain just the slightest bit against his smooth skin…

Yes. Alexander Lightwood is going to become downright lethal one of these days.

Magnus is fucking doomed. And he can’t wait.

“Are you sure?” He forces himself to check one last time, because Alec looks so tense, like he might not be enjoying something.

Alec responds by sort of… _thrashing_ his head a bit. It’s in the vague direction of a nod, but Magnus can’t tell…

“Please, _please_ Magnus, please, pl-” his voice breaks off with a gasp.

Well. If Magnus thought Alexander saying his name was bad, all this _begging_ is… is…

It’s something he’s going to have to exploit. Heavily.

But some other time. Not now.

Because making Alec beg for him until his voice gives out is an _exquisite_ idea for some late night. But it’s just not right for morning sex. Especially Alexander’s first experience with morning sex. Morning sex is downright _sacred_ to Magnus. And it’s meant to be soft, and sleepy, and easy. There’s no point in exhausting all of their energy before they’ve even had breakfast, after all.

Alexander is still working his throat, still groaning out these little noises that might be attempts at saying ‘please’ or ‘Magnus’. He’s damn near _sobbing._

“Alright,” Magnus says gently, stroking his hands down Alec’s thighs to soothe him. “Alright, sweetheart. Shhh, I’ll take care of you.”

And Magnus finally settles himself in. He stretches out on his stomach, holding himself up on his elbows, right between Alec’s thighs.

These boxers are so worn and ill-fitting that there’s really nothing about them that can _strain,_ but they’re certainly tented as hell. And the promise of what’s underneath is absolutely intoxicating.

But Magnus knows that while this isn’t the first time they’re doing this, it’s still different in one very important way. The light was off last night. And now, sunshine is flooding the room. Which means that this is the first time Alexander will really be _naked_ in front of Magnus. He’s had his hands on Alexander’s cock plenty of times, and had it in his mouth last night, but he’s never really _seen_ it. And he knows that’s intentional. Alec is horribly uncomfortable being exposed like this. Even when they’ve touched each other under the bedcovers, Alec has never once taken off his underwear. Last night, with no light in the bedroom whatsoever, he’d _still_ only pushed his boxers down to his knees.

Well. That probably explains why it looks like every muscle in his body is tensed. His eyes are screwed shut, like he knows what’s about to happen, and he can’t bear to watch it.

It’s devastating.

Magnus had initially thought that it was some form of nephilim modesty, a sense that he’s supposed to be covered at all times, that he’s supposed to be _decent._ Then he’d thought it might just be the discomfort of inexperience. Alec’s never been naked in front of anyone, so of course it’s a little nerve-wracking at first.

But by now, Magnus has figured out that it’s something else entirely. Alexander isn’t uncomfortable with someone _seeing_ his body, he’s uncomfortable with someone seeing his _body._

Even if Magnus gets another four hundred years, he’ll never understand it.

It’s such a glaring disconnect between them. Possibly the only one they still have. It’s the one miscommunication they haven’t fixed yet. Something Magnus knows is an issue, but still hasn’t brought up. Because, for once, he doesn’t know what to say.

Because he doesn’t fucking understand how someone who looks like _this,_ how someone this unbelievably beautiful, could possibly look at himself and not be able to _see_ it. Magnus and Alec clearly see such different images when they look at Alec’s body. Try as he might to find whatever makes Alexander so unhappy, all Magnus can see when he looks at him is an angel.

He’s not sure how, but _somehow,_ this must be the nephilim’s fault. The shadowhunters’ ass-backwards cultural constipation is what’s caused all of Alec’s other insecurities. So it only makes sense that they’re responsible for this one too. Someday, Magnus is going to figure it out.

But for now, he just ducks his head, pressing his lips to Alexander’s still-clothed hip. He knows that showering Alec’s body with affection isn’t a psychologically approved method of trying to deal with Alec’s self-image issues. But it certainly can’t hurt, which is enough of an excuse for Magnus to keep trying his damndest.

He’s just about to start slipping off Alexander’s boxers when he realizes that the sheet has been pushed off of them, and is bunched up around his calves. Well, it’s not much, but if it might give Alec a bit more security… Magnus reaches down and tugs the sheet back up and over his shoulders. It’s not going to cover Alec’s cock at all, but maybe having his legs covered will make him feel a little less naked.

He’s not sure if it helps at all, because Alexander’s body _still_ feels so fucking tense. Magnus can’t bear the thought of him being this uncomfortable when he’s about to be pleasured, so he tries to give him a bit of relief first. He opens his mouth wide, and slowly runs it down the shape of Alexander’s cock, exhaling hot breath through the thin fabric of his boxers.

 _“Ah-_ fuck!” Alec’s hips jerk up against Magnus’s mouth, which he takes to be a good sign. And Magnus certainly does _adore_ getting to hear him swear like that.

Alright.

He moves his mouth up to Alexander’s stomach. And he slowly, carefully slips his fingers into his boxers, pulling the fabric far enough to free Alec’s cock as he starts tugging them down his hips. Magnus feels the tip of Alec's cock brush against his jaw, smearing a drop of precome on Magnus’s skin, and it’s enough to make him moan.

Somehow, Alec manages to tense even _further,_ until Magnus can feel him tremble beneath his hands. But after a moment of hesitation, Alec lifts his hips, letting Magnus shimmy the boxers all the way down his cock.

He feels so anxious, so _frightened,_ it’s almost unbearable. So Magnus doesn’t pull the underwear any further. He lets it rest right below Alec’s cock, exposing him the least amount possible for what's about to happen. It means Alec can’t spread his legs very far, and Magnus’s mobility is limited a bit more than he’d like, but if it helps at all, it’s worth it.

Magnus isn’t sure if Alec is looking down at him, or if he’s still closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to see himself on display like this. But Magnus doesn’t look up to find out. Instead, he starts kissing down Alec’s pelvis, right next to his cock, close enough that it rubs against his face every time he moves. And even that small amount of friction is enough to keep Alexander breathing out the most _lovely_ noises above him.

While he’s sensitive to the situation, and doesn’t want to exacerbate Alexander’s insecurities, Magnus really can’t do this without lifting his face and getting a good look at the cock he’s about to suck. He doesn’t want to draw this out or _ogle_ Alec any more than he needs to, but even a brief glance is-

Fuck.

 _“Fuck,”_ he whispers.

He’d known that Alexander has a particularly exquisite cock just from feeling it, but actually getting to _see_ it is… something else entirely.

There’s nothing he loves more than seeing a beautiful cock on a beautiful person. He’s all for self-love and self-confidence, but he’s met far too many people who are just a bit too _smug_ about their nice dicks, which ruins the effect entirely in Magnus’s opinion. The prettiest dick in the world automatically becomes unattractive when it’s attached to someone who’s _expecting_ Magnus to fawn over it. And why is it always dicks? It’s not as though he’s ever heard anyone brag about having a particularly beautiful vagina, even though Magnus has seen some truly _gorgeous_ ones in his time. Somehow, it always seems like it’s pretty cocks that end up on horrid people.

Which is why moments like this are so goddamn delicious. Because Alexander Lightwood is the last person on earth who’d ever be egotistical about having such a _gorgeous_ cock. Hell, with all of his obvious insecurities about his body, he probably doesn’t even realize it. The thought is downright tragic, because this truly belongs in the hall of fame for dicks.

Magnus had been planning on taking this nice and slow for Alec’s sake, but the moment he sets his eyes on this cock, the last of his restraint leaves him in a dizzying rush. Before he can even make the conscious decision to do anything, he’s leaned in and licked the little smear of precome right off the tip.

Above him, Alexander chokes on a surprised sound, and while it’s absolutely lovely, Magnus knows it’s just the start.

They’ve already had The Conversation, the one about safe sex and STDs and how yes, as a shadowhunter who deals with open wounds and blood and _demons_ on a regular basis, Alec has still been exposed to possible diseases even though he’d never so much as kissed anyone before. And it had been just about the most awkward conversation Magnus has ever had, and he’s pretty sure Alexander had never been more embarrassed in his entire life. But, of course, it was worth it, because now they’re both tested, clean, and comfortable about making these decisions. Which is why Magnus _doesn’t_ reach into the nightstand drawer for a condom.

If last night was any indication, Magnus doesn’t have much time to enjoy this. So he plans to make the best of what little time is allowed him, and gets to work right away. He takes Alexander’s cock in his hand and just… starts. He trails his tongue absolutely everywhere. Long, sloppy licks, tilting his face this way and that to make sure he gets everything sufficiently wet.

Pretty much right away, Magnus realizes that he’s going to have to try to _not_ focus on all the noises Alec is making, because at this rate the sounds alone might be enough to make Magnus come in his panties, completely untouched, and that’s certainly not acceptable behavior for him. He’s supposed to be the experienced one in this relationship, what kind of example would that be setting?

But with Alexander gasping and groaning and whimpering like this… well. Magnus’s morning wood feels like it’s planning on sticking around til afternoon.

As soon as Alec’s cock is passably wet, Magnus closes his mouth around the head. He just works his lips around it for a moment, before hollowing his cheeks and _really_ sucking enthusiastically-

“Magnus!” Alexander’s back arches off of the bed, and his legs give these jerking twitches under the sheet. If it weren’t for the confines of his pushed-down boxers, Magnus thinks he might actually start kicking.

And as Magnus slowly moves down, taking more and more and _more_ of Alec’s cock into his mouth, it just gets better and better and _better._ Alec has admitted that he’s never seen any sort of pornography before (though Magnus still isn’t sure if that’s by choice, or if the Institute has some sort of impenetrable child-lock on their wifi), and - not for the first time - Magnus finds himself immensely appreciative of that fact. Because Alexander has never been told what to expect from sex. He’s never heard any fake or exaggerated moans to imitate. He’s never seen one person last for forty-five minutes in a multi-shot video before coming in six different angles. He’s never been shown that sex is supposed to be perfect, without little mistakes and hiccups, or that he’s supposed to enjoy every moment without complaint. He has absolutely _no_ previous conceptions. Everything is discovered for himself. Which means that every damn reaction he gives is sincere. He’s completely genuine.

Which just makes _everything_ that much more fantastic. Every throaty little cry, every odd little movement, it’s all… him.

And it’s all _amazing._

By the time Magnus works up a real pace, and is steadily pumping his mouth up and down Alexander’s cock, he’s already lasted longer than he had last night. Which is lovely, of course, but also… it means Magnus has the opportunity to really get into it before it’s over. Which is dangerous. He’s afraid that once he starts, he’ll never want to stop again. Magnus distantly wishes that he’d asked Alexander to use a stamina rune. And… he wonders just how powerful those things really are. What does it do to the refractory period? Could he just… keep sucking? Suck Alec’s cock until he comes and suck him hard again and just over and over again in one never-ending blowjob? How many times could Alec come before it wears off? That’s…

That’s something Magnus will have to keep in mind. Not for now. But, someday. Maybe.

That idea must have gotten him a bit more _excited_ than he’d planned, because he suddenly realizes that he’s bobbing his head significantly faster than he had been a few moments ago. And he’s gripping Alec’s hips, digging his fingers into his skin, and… hm. Moaning. Much louder than he should be. He’s being even louder than Alexander right now, and that’s just ridiculous. Alec’s noises are _much_ more important to hear than his own.

“Ah… ngh- _oh!_ Mag… _Magnus…”_ Alexander’s hands pet ineffectively at Magnus’s hair, like he’s trying to grip it but can’t get his fingers to cooperate. It’s terribly adorable. But then they start getting more… insistent. And it’s not like petting anymore. It’s like… tapping? Alec may have a few unusual reactions, but this is particularly strange. Magnus doesn’t know what it means. That, coupled with the fact that his moans are getting a little tense _-_

“Magnus, s… s- _s-ahhh,”_ he manages to fist one hand into Magnus hair, and he tugs sharply. “S-stop. Stop, Magnus, stop-”

Shit.

Magnus pulls away immediately, cursing himself for not realizing what Alec meant sooner. “Something wrong?” he asks instantly, ignoring the spit running down his chin and the fact that he's a little winded.

Alexander looks… focused. He’s looking down at Magnus with a little crease between his furrowed eyebrows. But he doesn’t look like he’s upset. “You… you just…” He clumsily brushes the back of one hand across Magnus’s cheek, trailing down to touch his neck. “It-it seems like, you. I don’t… I don’t want you to hurt your neck. Isn’t it sore like that? I could… sit up? Or stand? So you could… get more comfortable.”

He…

It takes a moment. But then, Magnus smiles. Broad and breathless.

Getting his dick sucked, all Alec can do is worry that Magnus might be getting a sore neck. That he might be uncomfortable. Alexander is… He’s an-

“Angel,” Magnus says quietly, still smiling up at him. “I’m fine.” And, because Alec doesn’t look at all convinced, “I promise. It’ll get uncomfortable eventually. But I’ll tell you when it does.” And, again, because Alec _still_ doesn’t look at all convinced, “I _promise,_ Alexander.” He lets his smile twist into a smirk. “I am having a _wonderful_ time.”

Alec smiles, one of his quick smiles that’s there and gone in the blink of an eye. Like he’s embarrassed by it. Embarrassed to let himself be happy. “I… um. Yeah. Me- me too.” The smile comes back, and it sticks around this time. “You’re… you’re really good. At this. At…” he looks away, with a nervous chuckle. “You know.”

“Sucking your cock?” Magnus offers casually.

Alec throws his head back against the pillows with a groan. “Shit, don’t- don’t _say_ stuff like… I’m already too close.”

Magnus clicks his tongue admonishingly. “Now now, there’s no such thing as ‘too close’, Alexander.” He laughs playfully as he licks his lips. “Allow me to demonstrate.”

And he swallows Alec’s cock down, in one movement, taking him all the way into the back of his throat.

Alec practically _shouts_ before his voice dissolves into helpless little cries, and, _fuck._ It’s enough to make Magnus grind his own aching cock against the mattress for a hint of relief. He can feel magic gather in his fingers like static electricity, and it takes significantly more restraint than usual to get it to back off. Judging by the way Alec’s hips twitch under his hands, he thinks a few sparks might have gotten away from him. Oops.

Fingers twist into Magnus’s hair, but to Magnus’s extreme disappointment, they don’t grip tightly. Alec just rests his hands on Magnus’s head, feeling him bob up and down on his cock. Magnus suddenly wants nothing more than for Alexander to hold his head down and fuck his throat so roughly that he won’t be able to speak for a few days-

Not now. Someday. Maybe.

Besides, even if Alec actually _wanted_ to do that now, he’s not going to have the time. Magnus can tell. He can feel the tension gathering in Alec’s thighs. He can hear the way Alec’s breath keeps catching, getting stuck in his throat every time he tries to inhale. And when he glances up, he can see Alec’s mouth falling open, wide with shock. It’s the look he always gets right when he’s about to come. Like he can’t believe it. Like he’s stunned by his own pleasure. Like he didn’t know he could feel this good.

Magnus gets an idea.

He pulls his mouth away from Alexander’s cock (though he immediately misses the feeling of it stretching his lips). Alec looks down to see what he’s doing, which is perfect. Because Magnus opens his mouth, sticks out his tongue, and presses the tip of it to the head of Alec’s cock. And he uses one hand to start stroking him, hard and fast, not interested in delaying this any further, but _very_ interested in letting Alexander come all over his tongue.

Because that’s one of the things he’s learned about Alec since they started fooling around. Quite possibly his _favorite_ thing he’s learned. Certainly the least expected, for Alec as much as for him.

Alexander Lightwood is downright _kinky_ about come.

It hasn’t been anything overt, not yet anyway. But there have been hints, little signs here and there. Enough that Magnus is pretty sure Alec will get quite a kick out of _watching_ himself come into Magnus’s mouth.

Judging by the way Alexander _sobs_ and clutches the sheets, Magnus thinks this is a pretty good plan.

Alec whines frantically, like he’s trying to speak but can’t make his voice work. “Ah, I… Magnus- I… _please._ I- I can’t… please…” He sounds pained. He’s gritting his teeth, and his eyes keep fluttering, like he’s struggling to keep them open, so he can keep looking at Magnus.

Magnus can't tell if he’s trying to hold out, to make himself last longer… or if he’s stuck. If he’s right there, but can’t _quite_ tip over the edge.

Either way, a little encouragement should do the trick.

“Yes,” he says in a low voice, letting his lips brush Alec’s cock as he forms the words, “please, darling. _Alexander._ Please, let me _taste_ you.”

And, just as expected-

Alec’s thighs clench like a vice around Magnus’s neck. He cries out, again and again, getting louder and louder until his voice _breaks_ on a long, gorgeous sob, right as Magnus feels the first drop of warmth hit his tongue.

And goddammit, he just can’t help himself. He lets out one pulse of magic. Just a little one. Just a little kick of heat, right into Alec’s gut. Just enough to make everything coil a _bit_ tighter, make everything burn a _bit_ hotter, make his orgasm last a _bit_ longer.

It's worth it, because even after his cock has spent completely into Magnus’s mouth, Alec is still whimpering. His body is still tense, like he’s still right in the middle of it.

It isn’t until Magnus takes his hand away from Alec’s cock that he finally sags into the bed, _writhing_ against the sheets with his whole body. His eyes are closed, his head is thrown back, he’s covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

He’s the most beautiful thing Magnus has ever seen.

And he’s gasping out Magnus’s name, over and over again, not always managing to form it completely.

It takes Magnus almost a full minute to catch his breath enough to be able to swallow. And it just so happens that that’s _right_ as Alec opens his eyes to look at him again. Magnus can’t help but smirk a bit at the timing.

Magnus knows there’s spit all the way down his chin, and he suspects there’s a hearty smear of come on his lower lip as well. As he starts to get up, pushing up onto his knees, he lifts one arm to wipe the worst of the mess off of his chin-

But before he can even _try,_ Alexander pulls him down. Magnus lands on his chest with an inelegant little “Oof!” He laughs a bit as he recovers himself.

Alec’s looking at him. Intently. Looking over his face, but really focusing on-

His lower lip.

He’s staring at Magnus’s lower lip in a way that makes him pretty positive that there _is_ a drop of come there. A little smear of Alec’s come. Magnus considers licking it off; that’ll probably get a nice reaction out of him. His tongue darts out against his lip-

Alexander pulls him in and kisses him. Open-mouthed and wet and…

Well, fuck. Fuck _everything._

Alec sucks Magnus’s lower lip between his teeth. And runs his tongue across it. Licking up that little drop before licking _deep_ into Magnus’s mouth like he’s… tasting himself.

And, _god,_ if someone doesn’t start touching Magnus’s dick soon, he thinks he might actually die.

Luckily, that appears to be very high on Alexander’s list of priorities. He tips them over so they’re on their sides without breaking the kiss (which is still mostly comprised of tongue). And without any preamble, he practically shoves one hand into Magnus’s panties. Technically, it’s not best practice. Even though these are much sturdier than some of his other pieces of lingerie, they’re still rather delicate. But Alec’s hand is wrapping around his cock and _goddamn,_ if Alec wants to rip these panties into shreds Magnus will let him so long as he keeps touching him like this.

“Yes, _god_ yes,” Magnus groans, the words getting muffled in Alec’s mouth because he apparently _refuses_ to stop kissing him for any reason whatsoever. “Alexan-n- _ngh…”_

It shouldn’t feel this good. It has no right to feel this good. It’s a rushed, inelegant handjob. It’s clumsy. It's far too dry. The friction of Alec’s calloused hand feels like chafing. And Alec has _no idea_ what he’s doing. He’s only done this about half a dozen times. He’s admitted to Magnus that before they started dating, he’d barely even done this to himself. He has no practical experience. He’d never even _seen_ a foreskin before, much less touched one. There’s absolutely no logical reason for this to feel good at all.

And yet, and yet.

The goddamn enthusiasm in every unskilled twist of Alexander’s wrist makes everything inside Magnus _ache._ In all his years, he doesn’t think he’s ever been with anyone who’s this eager to please him. Magnus knows damn well that Alec considers his own pleasure to be trivial in comparison. If Magnus didn’t actively make Alec admit his desires, he’s pretty sure Alec would have willingly let himself go ignored all these weeks. He’s so _focused_ on making sure Magnus feels as good as possible. Like it’s his responsibility. And god knows that Alec Lightwood doesn’t take his responsibilities lightly.

It’s… well. Like damn near everything else about this boy, it’s absolutely precious.

And it explains why this graceless jerk-off feels like the best goddamn sex Magnus has ever had. All of Alexander’s fucking _sincerity,_ his need to be as good as possible, his need to be so much better than he thinks he is…

It’s ecstasy.

And in no time at all, Magnus feels the spark in his gut. The sinking heat that lets him know this is going to be over much sooner than he expected.

He practically has to wrench his face away from Alec to free his lips enough to speak. “Yes, Alec, _god yes._ Just- just like that, feels _so good_ sweetheart…”

Alec whines against Magnus’s cheek. His arm must be getting a little tired by now, but that was enough to give him a burst of renewed energy, because his whole body jerks against Magnus’s and his hand starts moving faster and tighter and hotter and fucking _hell,_ Magnus is so damn close.

“Almost, almost there, angel.” Magnus tips his head back, exposing his neck. Alec takes the hint beautifully and immediately starts sucking a few new hickeys to accompany the ones from last night. “Alec, you’re gonna make me come, Ah- _Alec-”_

And that’s it.

Alexander smothers a cry against Magnus’s neck (which is desperately sweet, really, since _Magnus_ is the one who’s having an orgasm, so he should be the only one making sounds of pleasure that intense).

And it’s…

God. It’s just so much better than it should be. It’s deliciously slow, a building ache and a sweet burn that completely takes over him for a few precious seconds. He knows he’s making all sorts of undignified noises, but all of his focus is currently being spent on making sure he doesn’t accidentally make anything explode. After all, it’s happened before, because of pleasure much less intense than this.

Everything fades slowly, drawn out by the fact that Alec’s hand still hasn’t slowed down at _all,_ and now his grip is significantly better lubricated. Magnus has to clumsily bat at Alec’s arm to make him stop when it becomes too much, because his voice still isn’t working the way he wants it to. He knows he’s _trying_ to form words, but all that’s coming out is a string of throaty gibberish.

And then they both just… rest. Legs tangled together. Panting. Trying to catch their breath (and why are they both equally winded by what just happened?).

Alexander’s hand is still in Magnus’s panties. Fingers curled around nothing, just pressing wetly against Magnus’s hip. After a minute or two passes, and Magnus feels like he can breathe again, he realizes that the gentlemanly thing to do would be to take care of the mess he just made all over his boyfriend’s hand.

But Alexander has other ideas.

Because, as if he could tell what Magnus was planning, that’s when he finally pulls his hand out of the satin. Slowly, and carefully, he brings his hand up, like he’s making sure he doesn’t get any of the mess onto the sheet that’s still haphazardly covering their lower bodies. Magnus doesn’t know why, but he just keeps lifting his hand further and further-

Oh, no.

Oh _god_ no.

Alexander brings his hand right up to his face.

No no no nonononono he _cannot_ be serious-

Alexander gives his hand one lick. One tiny, hesitant lick. Casually. Like he’s sampling a goddamn lollipop, and not…

He makes a small sound. A small, _good_ sound.

And all Magnus can do is watch helplessly as Alexander Lightwood lies there and licks all of Magnus’s come off of his hand.

God, what the fuck does he think he’s doing? Doesn’t he know Magnus is an old man? His poor, frail, ancient heart isn’t strong enough to handle this. This might actually kill him.

But that’s just it. Alec  _doesn’t_ know. He’s just indulging his new-found interest. He has no goddamn idea that Magnus is going to jerk off to this image, and this image alone, until the end of time itself.

When Alec seems to have cleaned his hand to his satisfaction, Magnus finally lets himself close his eyes. He needs to focus. He needs to burn this memory into his mind. If he ever forgets this moment, forgets exactly how Alec looked and exactly how he felt, that’ll be it. That’ll be what finally makes Magnus give up on this whole ‘living’ nonsense.

The only thing that Magnus somewhat dislikes about morning sex is the extreme desire to go right back to sleep as soon as it's finished. Because within a few minutes of recovering from this whole come-licking ordeal, Magnus is loose and relaxed and snuggled up in bed with a loose and relaxed angel. What could possibly make him want to leave this bed?

He thinks through his schedule. His next meeting could probably be done from bed, right? Yes, he can probably summon a demon from over the phone. If it means spending a few more hours with Alexander in his arms, he’ll fucking figure out a way.

When he feels a little _too_ close to dozing off, he forces himself to open his eyes.

Alec is looking at him.

Their faces are too close together. Alec's features blur together like an abstract painting.

But he’s smiling, so Magnus has no desire to move away.

“So, um…” Alec begins with his usual eloquence. “Yeah. Good morning.”

And Magnus can’t help but laugh. A tired, satisfied laugh. “It certainly has been so far.”

Alec’s head moves like he’s trying to duck out of Magnus’s gaze, but it just makes their noses nuzzle together, which is delightful. “I’d say it was a little better than ‘good’, actually.”

Oh, he’s just too much.

“Yes, that’s a fair assessment,” Magnus teases, reaching up his tired arm to lazily brush his fingers through Alec’s hair.

Alec tilts his head into the touch with a quiet hum. But then, he tilts his head away. “I should… I should probably take a shower.” He tips his head up to indicate his messy hair. “I look gross.”

Magnus can’t be sure if it’s just that he’s never gone through two rounds of sex without showering before (because that certainly can leave one feeling less-than-fresh), or if this is another one of those hideous insecurities of his.

Just in case, Magnus quickly flips them over, getting Alec sprawled out on his back so Magnus can lie against his chest. “Darling, between the two of us, I honestly doubt _you_ are the one who looks gross.” He bats his makeup-crusted eyes to prove his point, and lightly digs his fingers into the ticklish spot on Alec’s side for emphasis.

Alexander lurches against him, laughing loud and surprised. “That’s not fair!” he gasps between giggles, trying to shove Magnus’s hand away. “C’mon, Mags.”

Magnus freezes.

He's never-

He’s never heard that before.

He’s had nicknames before, pet names from friends and lovers and everyone in between. But never…

Mags.

Alexander is still laughing beneath him, even though he’s not being tickled anymore. He’s struggling to calm down, petting clumsily at Magnus’s shoulders and back. “You-” A deep breath. “You don’t look gross, Mags.” Another breath. His hand traces up Magnus’s neck, cupping his jaw. “You look beautiful. You always look beautiful.” He doesn’t stammer. He doesn’t trip over the words. He doesn’t even blush.

It’s a strange feeling, in a terrifyingly exhilarating way, for Magnus to be so palpably aware that he’s falling in love.

This wasn’t part of the plan. No, Magnus has never really considered himself the type to make real _plans_ for his life, but this… This wasn’t even a thought. This wasn’t even a… possibility.

He was supposed to just be a cute boy. Alec was just supposed to be a devastatingly attractive boy with a habit of being adorable in Magnus’s direction. He was never supposed to mean anything. He was never supposed to be… this.

And so soon. Honestly, it’s only been six weeks. A handful of dates. What does Magnus think he’s doing, falling in love so quickly? This isn’t a goddamn Disney movie.

Well, he supposes it’s not entirely off-brand for him. He’s done worse. Hell, with Etta, it had taken less than one date for them to skip all of the ‘relationship’ nonsense and become an old married couple (figuratively speaking, of course). By the six week mark, she was practically living with him already, for fuck’s sake.

But that’s not…

That’s…

Hm. Now that he thinks about it, that’s probably why this is so surprising. Why Alec is so surprising.

Because Magnus had thought he was done with all of that now. He’s spent the last sixty years absolutely _convinced_ that Etta was it. His last chance. Because if they could be that happy together, if they could have over fifteen years together, if he could love her so much, if she could love _him_ so much, and still… leave him…

If Etta had decided that even she didn’t want him anymore, well. Then why would anyone else?

He’d packed it all up that day. Tucked away all of his hopes and all of his desires and, he’d thought, all of his capacity to love.

And now, Alexander Lightwood is smiling up at him, stroking a thumb across his cheek, and…

That’s it. That’s all it takes.

Magnus smiles, because suddenly he’s afraid that he might cry if he doesn’t. Honestly, this is just _embarrassing._ He needs to get his shit together. What’s he supposed to say if Alec asks him why he’s tearing up after really nice morning sex? ‘Oh, it’s nothing, I just thought I’d never be able to feel love again, but now I’ve realized that I’m falling in love with you even though we’ve been casually dating for a month and a half. _Oh,_ also, I was pretty convinced that I’m completely unlovable, but you keep making me think there’s a chance you might love me someday. No pressure. It’s no big deal. I’m fine.’

So he keeps smiling instead. It feels like his mouth is barely deigning to cooperate, but it’s something. It’s enough to keep Alexander smiling back at him. And that’s all that matters.

Alec tilts his head sharply to the side, a little tic that lets Magnus know he’s about to say something that’s making him nervous. “Would… um. Since I couldn’t _make_ you coffee, would you maybe… After, you know. Showering and everything. Could I maybe… take you somewhere? Buy you a cup of coffee?”

Well. Fuck. This certainly isn’t helping with Magnus’s existential crisis.

But he keeps himself under control, makes sure his smile stays warm and doesn’t start to crack. “That would be lovely, Alexander.” However, the morning has really been slipping away from them. And even though Magnus doesn’t want to shoot himself in the foot, he has to ask… “You don’t have to be getting back to the Institute?”

Alec looks away, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth shyly. It’s _horrible,_ and Magnus loves it. “I… should. I should really go back right now.” He looks back up at Magnus, with that crooked little smile of his. “But I’m not going to. I want to stay here. For a bit longer.” His smile vanishes. “If that’s alright with you? I can leave if you’re busy. Shit, you probably have stuff to do, sorry-”

Magnus presses a kiss to the corner of Alec’s mouth. “Darling, there is _nothing_ I’d rather do today than have coffee with you.”

Alec’s mouth twitches under Magnus’s lips, like he wants to smile but is too nervous. “Really?”

Magnus grins. “Really.” He tilts his face just far enough to catch Alec’s lips in a proper kiss.

As Alec whimpers happily into his mouth, Magnus decides that he’s going to buy a coffee maker one of these days.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession: I've been wanting to write this chapter since before I came up with the ALDNT verse in the first place. Obviously it's changed and evolved quite a bit since writing the series, but still. It's been a long time coming. 
> 
> Which is probably why this ended up being the longest part of the series. Actually, this is the longest thing I've ever written. Ever. It turns out that when you have a lot of feelings about Alexander Lightwood, but you have to keep writing from the perspective of all his self-hate and insecurities, it's _very_ cathartic to get to write from the perspective of someone like Magnus instead.
> 
> Needless to say, I doubt any of the other chapters will end up being this long.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec scrunches up his lips.  
> And he raises his eyebrows. Then, he furrows them, and raises just one instead.  
> He opens his mouth as big as he can, sticks out his tongue, and widens his eyes.

Alec scrunches up his lips.

And he raises his eyebrows. Then, he furrows them, and raises just one instead.

He opens his mouth as big as he can, sticks out his tongue, and widens his eyes.

He bites down lightly on his outstretched tongue and wrinkles his nose. With surprising difficulty, he manages to wiggle his tongue around a bit.

Max laughs.

“Gotcha,” Alec says triumphantly, and gives himself a mental high five.

And then he inflates his cheeks and crosses his eyes.

“Darling.” Magnus steps out of the bathroom, wiping his face on the inside of his t-shirt (well, Alec’s t-shirt, but their wardrobes have really blurred together over the past day and a half). “What on earth are you doing?”

Alec lets his cheeks deflate, keeping his lips tight so the air escapes in a long, slow fart sound. Max gurgles. But it sounds happy, so Alec’s counting it as a laugh. “I am bonding with our child, Magnus,” he says without looking up. He keeps his crossed eyes pointed vaguely toward Max, who’s resting in the makeshift baby cradle Alec’s made with his limbs. He’s sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, with Max lying in the space between his legs, and he’s supporting Max’s head and back on his forearms. It’s probably not a very ‘proper’ way to hold a baby, but he’s secure, his head his _very_ supported, and he’s still gurgling happily, so Alec thinks it’s probably fine.

Besides, Alec’s pretty sure that Maryse would be able to _sense_ if he was doing even the slightest thing wrong, and she’d teleport back into the room to take Max away from him. She may be unsettlingly nice as a grandma, but she’s still terrifying.

Alec’s head starts to ache from keeping his eyes crossed for too long, so he uncrosses them and blinks furiously until everything comes back into focus.

Max is gripping one of the baggy feet of his onesie, and his other hand is reaching up like he wants to grab Alec’s face. Alec leans over to try and let him, but in the awkward position, all Max can really do is bat at his nose. But this seems to make him _extremely_ happy, so Alec doesn’t mind.

“Shouldn’t you boys be in bed?” Magnus asks with just a hint of playful sarcasm.

“He’s been asleep for like, three hours. He’s awake now. We have to bond.”

Magnus sits on the edge of the bed, reaching out to run his fingers through the back of Alec’s hair. “Sweetheart, you’ve been a father for twelve hours. You have plenty of time to bond with him. Right now you need _sleep.”_

“Psh,” Alec makes his voice high-pitched and silly, acting like he’s talking to Max even though the words are for Magnus, “ _You_ may have been a father for twelve hours. But I’ve been one for at _least_ thirty-six. Probably forty. It’s not my fault you’re a day behind.” He ducks his head so Max can pull at his hair, which he does, with _great_ enthusiasm.

Magnus laughs, letting his hand drop down to rub lightly at Alec’s back. “Just because you decided to adopt a baby without _talking to me_ about it doesn’t mean you’ve been a parent longer than I have. Max became ours when we _mutually_ agreed to raise him, after _communicating_ about it, like adults.”

“You handed me a baby and said ‘We have this, don’t we Alec?’ And I said ‘Yeah, we do.’” Alec cranes his head around to look at Magnus without making Max let go of his hair. “How is that _not_ deciding to keep him? What else could you have possibly been referring to?”

“The _situation,_ Alexander,” Magnus says, rolling his eyes quite spectacularly. “I meant we had the situation under control, and we were going to figure out what to do with him. I did _not_ mean that we’d just instantaneously and telepathically made the lifelong decision to become parents. Who gets handed a random infant and only needs three seconds and eight words to assume it’s automatically their child now?”

“I do.” Alec lifts his head out of Max’s reach, so he can turn and look at Magnus. Really look at him. “I didn’t even need that much. You let me hold him, and…” He raises his eyebrows. “Yeah.”

It’s… a weird thing to say. But it’s true. And Alec doesn’t think it’s entirely unreasonable, either. He’s heard about it happening before. New parents holding their baby for the first time and just… feeling something. Knowing. Like a switch has been flicked, and all of their parental instincts suddenly turn on. Alec knows that’s a thing that happens.

Of course, he’s only ever heard about it happening to biological parents who hold their child for the first time after they’re born. He’s never heard about it happening to to some random guy who picks up a baby that was abandoned on the doorstep of the Shadowhunter Academy.

But still. Even if the circumstances were… strange - ridiculously strange - Alec had just… known. The moment he’d gotten Max cradled in his arms, and Max had _instantly_ stopped crying… that was it. Alec knew there was no way in hell he’d let anyone else try to take him. He knew Max was his. Before he was even ‘Max’, he was Alec’s son.

And none of Magnus’s _reason_ or _sense_ is going to change that. Alec made the decision to become a parent in the time it took for Max to look up at him. That’s just how it is.

And judging by the way that Magnus is looking at him, with his little smile, head tilted the slightest bit to the side, Alec thinks he probably understands.

Max gurgles again, clumsily swatting his arm at Alec, clearly upset that he can't reach him. These gurgles sound significantly less happy than the previous ones did, so Alec forces himself to break himself away from Magnus’s steady gaze. Max’s noises intensify to a weak, dispassionate crying, sounding more like mild complaining than anything else. Alec immediately grabs his little hand, letting him get a vice-like grip around one of Alec’s fingers.

Magnus hums in the back of his throat, and crawls all the way onto the bed. He kneels behind Alec, thighs spread and bracketing Alec’s hips so he can snuggle up against his back. He rests his chin on Alec’s shoulder, and loops his arms around Alec’s sides so he can play with Max’s feet - which makes Max wriggle in Alec’s lap. After a minute or so, Max settles down, still holding Alec’s finger, though his grip feels a bit more tired.

“I’m worried that he doesn’t understand the concept of love,” Alec says bluntly. It’s been bothering him all day, and for some reason his brain apparently decided that this nice, calm moment is somehow a good time to bring it up. “He’s just a baby. Does he know that I love him? Does he _get_ it?” He waggles his finger in Max’s tiny blue fist. “And is that… weird? Am I not supposed to love him yet? Is it supposed to take more time?”

Magnus chuckles, and Alec can feel the sound reverberate against his back. “Darling, this is your _child,_ not an overly-optimistic blind date. Objectively speaking, I’m fairly certain that loving him is the best outcome possible.”

“Okay, but what if he doesn’t _know?”_

Magnus presses his lips to the side of Alec’s neck. “He’s an _infant,_ Alexander. Of course he doesn’t know. He doesn’t even have object permanence yet.” He rubs one hand down Alec’s thigh, and it feels so nice, even through Alec’s thick sweatpants. “On the bright side, if you’re ever worried that he doesn’t like you, you can just… cover his eyes for a second. Start over with a clean slate.”

Alec chokes on a laugh, because that shouldn’t be funny. It shouldn’t. But Magnus is so warm against his back and Max is still holding his finger so tightly and it’s just-

It’s…

He takes a breath.

It’s his family.

This is his family. This right here. The three of them, all curled up together on this horrible old bed in this horrible old attic in this horrible old Academy. Just him, and his son, and-

There’s a noise from the kitchen.

Well, speaking of ‘family’.

“Is someone still here?” Alec glances over his shoulder, but he can’t see anyone.

The room is pretty much destroyed after all the chaos of the past two days. Not just the baby-related detritus - clothes and blankets and tissues and towels - but the remnants of the impromptu party they’d ended up hosting tonight. Alec’s still worn out by the whole thing. It was only a few hours, and it was only his family (plus Clary and Simon, but they’ve been dating his siblings long enough that… like… _maybe_ they’re _kinda_ like family too. Not that he’d ever admit anything like that out loud). Alec can’t even remember the last time his parents were in the same room together, much less his parents and Isabelle and Jace and Clary and Simon and Magnus and a  _baby_ and Alec just can’t handle that much social interaction in one night. He’s been physically exhausted since the moment they found Max, and now he’s emotionally exhausted too.

He’d thought they’d finally managed to shove the last of them out the door for the night. It’s almost one in the goddamn morning after all. Magnus and Alec are parents now. They have a baby. They’ve had a baby for less than two days. People should understand that they’re a little worn out. Why won’t everyone leave them the fuck alone?

“Mm-hmmm.” Magnus squeezes Alec a little harder. “Your father stayed behind to do the _dishes_ for us.”

Alec opens his mouth to laugh.

Because he’s kidding.

He’s obviously kidding.

Robert Lightwood didn’t stay after the party to do goddamn housework for Magnus and Alec. Of course he didn’t. It’s a joke. It’s a very funny joke. He should laugh.

But Magnus isn’t laughing. And there’s another clattering sound from the kitchen.

Alec frowns. “You’re serious?”

Magnus smiles, nuzzling his cheek against Alec’s (though Alec doesn’t know _why,_ since he hasn’t shaved since yesterday morning and his stubble must be scratchy as fuck). “Absolutely. I think he and Maryse have it in their heads that whichever grandparent we like best gets to spend more time with Max.”

Alec scoffs. “Tell them to keep our kid out of their goddamn divorce. He’s _ours;_ they can’t win some sort of grandparent custody.”

Magnus laughs. “Tell them yourself, they’re _your_ scary parents.”

“Well, not too scary, if Robert’s suddenly doing dishes. I don’t think he’s ever washed a dish before in his life.”

He’s about to ask Magnus if he thinks they could trick Maryse and Robert into fixing up this awful attic apartment for them, but before he can, Max starts squirming. He lets go of Alec’s finger, and tugs his foot away from Magnus, and makes a series of _very_ unhappy noises. “Okay,” Alec says quietly, “Shhhh, it’s okay, Max, don’t get worked up. _Please_ don’t get worked up.” He finally gives up on his human cradle and scoops Max into his arms, holding him close to his chest, head supported in the crook of his elbow. In the much more traditional ‘baby-holding’ manner.

Mercifully, it only takes a few moments of gently rocking him and making some silly cooing noises before Max calms back down. It’s been a few hours since Max last started _really_ crying, and so far, that’s a record. A record that Alec would like to keep going as long as possible.

Magnus starts humming something, some gentle little song that Alec can only assume is a lullaby. His arms wrap a little tighter around Alec’s waist, beneath where Alec is holding Max. And Alec can’t help himself. He makes a small, contented noise, and tips his head to rest against Magnus’s. Snuggled up like this, it’s getting significantly easier to remember that it’s the middle of the night, and he hasn’t slept more than an hour straight in almost two days now. Even though he knows Robert is still in the kitchen, Alec kinda just wants to… pass out. Just like this. Without having to let go of his baby to put him back in the crib, and without having to move so much as an inch away from his boyfriend-

Oh.

His boyfriend. ‘Boyfriend’.

That’s…

Alec’s heart twists up, like it’s trying to crawl into his throat.

Because that’s not… true, anymore.

Yeah, they haven’t actually _said_ the word yet, but they’ve still… This morning, Alec still… And Magnus…

Magnus said yes.

It didn’t go at all like Alec wanted it to. Fuck, it was a goddamn _disaster,_ especially compared to the idea he's had in his mind for so long now.

Well, he’s never really planned a specific way to ask Magnus to marry him, but he’s thought about it. He’s thought about it a _lot._ For… fuck. For almost two years. It’s been almost two years since the first time he pictured himself marrying Magnus. Not as something he thought would ever happen, just something he’d… pictured. A vague idea. A vague hope. The idea has changed a lot since then, become sharper, more in-focus, and recently…

It hadn’t really formed into a specific plan, like it was something Alec knew he was going to do, once he found the right time to do it. But he knew the basic idea. He knew that if he _did_ ask Magnus to marry him, there was a certain way he wanted to do it. He wanted it to be… traditional. Not necessarily getting down on one knee, but at least a ring, and the usual sort of script. The actual _question._ ‘Magnus Bane, will you marry me?’ He’s imagined asking that. Over and over again. For almost two years.

And when the time finally came for him to ask, he fucked it up.

To be fair, the circumstances were so far out of Alec’s scope of imagination. He never, never once in all of his engagement fantasies thought that it would happen kneeling next to their _son’s_ crib. In the attic of the Shadowhunter Academy. How could he have possibly anticipated any of this? In his mind, it had always been just the two of them. Quiet, and simple. He’d always pictured it being at the loft, being in their home. Now they’re not even in New York. They’re in _Idris,_ which is hardly one of Alec’s favorite places, and might be Magnus’s absolute least favorite.

And the worst part, the most fucked-up part of the whole fucked-up proposal, is that Alec didn’t even fucking _ask._ He’d brought it up. _Mentioned_ getting married. As something he wanted to do. Something he thought they’d do. Hoped they'd do. He didn’t actually ask.

What the fuck. What the fuck was he thinking?

‘I never asked anyone to marry me before.’ But he _hadn’t_ asked. ‘So that’s a no, then?’ Even though Magnus hadn’t said no. He couldn’t have said no, because he hadn’t been asked a damn question.

But… even with all of that. Even though Alec didn’t ask, and they were in this dingy attic instead of their home, and none of it was what it was supposed to be…

Magnus had still said yes.

They haven’t told anyone yet. They haven’t even brought it up again. It’s still just for them. Like a little secret, one that’s still so hidden that they won’t even mention it to each other. It’s been almost a full day. Yes, it’s been a _busy_ day, but still… They haven’t said anything about it.

This isn’t the right moment. Alec knows it isn’t the right moment. It’s one in the morning. They haven’t slept in days. Max is probably going to start wailing at any moment. They’re both disheveled - unshaven, unshowered, neither of them wearing any makeup, their clothes rumpled and covered in various unsavory baby bodily fluids. And his father is in the next room, barely out of earshot, probably ready to walk in on them at any moment.

It’s not a good moment, but…

It’s just them. Just their little family. In their sleepy little clump. And the longer Magnus hums against his cheek, and rubs his hand across Alec’s stomach, the more Alec can feel his restraint start to fray, and-

“When we get back home,” he starts, barely louder than a whisper, keeping his focus on Max, “would you want-”

He stops himself. Because he’s not going to phrase it like that. He was already passive in the goddamn proposal. He’s not going to be passive about _this._ He needs Magnus to know how much he means this.

He takes a breath. Lets it out slowly. “I want to get you a ring. An engagement ring.” He tilts his face, not quite enough to look over his shoulder. “I know it’ll… be a while. Before we get married.” The idea of the Clave sanctioning a marriage between a shadowhunter and a downworlder (and both of them men) is almost laughable. Alec knows they have a long, difficult fight ahead of them. It’s gonna be a long engagement. Years, probably. Maybe… fuck. Maybe decades. Who knows. But he doesn’t want the hopelessness of the situation to make their engagement any less… real. He wants to buy Magnus a ring. He wants to put it on Magnus’s finger. “Would you want to wear it?”

Magnus loosens his hold, and his hands slip down to rest on Alec’s hips. He stops humming.

Normally, this is when Alec would start to think that he’d fucked something up, but somehow… he knows that’s not it. He worries about that less and less lately. Like somehow, after almost two and a half years together, he finally trusts himself. Trusts that Magnus knows what he means. Really understands him. And that they want the same things. That’s partly why he’d been so sure of himself when Magnus had first given Max to him. They’re on the same page. Alec realizes that they have been for a while. The only difference is that he really _gets_ that now.

So it’s not surprising when Magnus turns his head and kisses Alec’s cheek. Long, and lingering, and tender enough to make Alec’s breath catch in his throat. “Of course, my darling.” He smiles against the side of Alec’s face. Alec can feel it, and feel when he exhales a quiet, happy sigh. “My fiancé.”

That's…

By the Angel.

Alec’s been thinking about that word a lot, since their conversation. Well, since a long while before their conversation. But he’s been thinking about it a lot _more_ now.

And somehow, hearing it out loud is even nicer than he'd hoped.

“Fiancé,” Alec repeats softly. And, yeah. It feels just as nice to say it as it is to hear it.

Max squirms a little in Alec's arms, but doesn’t start fussing. Magnus’s lips are still brushing Alec’s cheek, so Alec turns his head, so he can kiss him. Gently.

And it’s just them. Just him, and his fiancé, and their son.

Alec could get used to this.

So, naturally, that’s when the kitchen door opens.

And even though this is _their_ temporary apartment, and it’s _their_ family and it’s _their_ moment… Alec isn’t quite ready for Robert to see him and Magnus quite so cozied up.

Still, it absolutely _sucks_ to have to break out of the warmth of their little nest. Alec’s struck with the sudden desire to just tell his dad to fuck off so they can go to bed. He’s just so tired and he was so warm and now he’s cold and moving again and everything’s awful.

“Here.” Alec holds Max out to Magnus, handing him over and making sure he’s carefully situated. “I’ll go get rid of him,” he says, a bit too loudly to be sure that Robert can't hear him.

But Magnus gets Max settled in his arms and gets off the bed right after Alec. “Angel, I’m fairly certain he’ll want to say goodnight to little Blueberry before he leaves.”

Oh.

Duh.

But Robert doesn’t look like he’s on his way out. He’s standing in the ‘living room’ part of the attic, rubbing his hands together like he’s just washed them and he doesn’t quite know how to comfortably stand still. “Alec.” He says it like a complete sentence, and Alec can’t help but wonder if this is where he’d inherited his own lack of eloquence.

“Thanks for,” Alec nods toward the kitchen, “that. You really didn’t have to.”

“No, it was no trouble.” Robert smiles. Well, he does his best. “You two already have your hands full.”

Alec feels oddly stranded out in the expanse of the mostly-empty room, so he goes over to the couch. But it’s still fucking broken (goddammit Jace), so he just half-sits on the arm. Magnus stays where he is, still tucked back by the bed, swaying back and forth a little with Max in his arms.

It only takes a few seconds for the silence to get painfully awkward. Yeah, Robert’s been trying his best lately (and his best has gotten _weirdly_ better since Max came into the picture), but that doesn’t mean they’re suddenly master conversationalists. Alec can’t think of the last time it was just them in a room together. He doesn’t think it’s _ever_ been just him, Robert, and Magnus. And all three of them are so obviously _aware_ that it’s weird, which just makes everything go from ‘strained’ to ‘horrible’.

Alec doesn’t understand why this particular moment is stretching out so long. He doesn’t really want to say goodnight first, because it’ll feel so much like kicking Robert out. And while that’s definitely what he _wants_ to do, he knows it’s not exactly the warmest way for a son to behave.

But why isn’t Robert fucking _saying_ anything? It’s one fucking word. ‘Goodnight.’ It’s two seconds. That’s it. That’s all it takes, and then they can all just go to their respective beds. But Robert isn’t saying a damn thing. Which means-

Shit.

It means he’s going to say something else. And he’s either trying to figure out how to say it, or getting up the courage to spit it out.

Fuck. Alec absolutely _hates_ seeing this clear of a similarity between them. It makes him feel like he should be sympathetic or something.

Robert takes a deep breath, and squares his shoulders. It’s his ‘I’m the Inquisitor and I’m about to say something Important’ pose, which is pretty damn unsettling, given the context.

“I know things got a little… hectic. Earlier. With everyone here. But now that things have… calmed down, I wanted to-” He takes another breath. Alec can’t help but notice that Robert is actively looking at _both_ of them, not just addressing Alec and pretending Magnus isn’t here (like he and Maryse have done for the past two and a half years). “I wanted to suggest Michael again. For Max’s middle name.”

Alec’s stomach feels like it drops all the way down to the floor. “That’s-”

“I know, everyone all had their different ideas,” Robert cuts in, like he knows he won’t be able to get this out if he lets himself stop. “But I wanted to make sure you both knew how much it would mean to me. To get to try and… do better. If not by him, then… at least by his name.”

Alec feels his chest tighten, like the sting of heartburn. Robert has said things… vaguely like this before, but never this… sincere. Earnest. This feels like it might be the most honest he's ever been with Alec, in his entire life. And it’s clearly not easy for him. And Alec’s not sure he can bear to hear any more-

“I just want…” Robert does that little attempt-smile again. “I’d like you to consider it.”

“Dad,” Alec says, mostly to make sure Robert doesn’t try to say anything else. But it takes him a moment to make his voice work any further than that. Belatedly, he realizes that… he’s not really sure when he’d last called Robert ‘Dad’. That’s… well. It’s something. He’ll figure out exactly what it is later.

Alec takes a breath. He glances over at Magnus, but Magnus is giving him a look that _clearly_ communicates that this is Alec’s father, and therefore, Alec’s responsibility. “Dad,” he starts again, feeling significantly more grounded, “That’s… that’s really… good of you. Seriously. I think that’s really nice.” And he does. He really means that. He wants Robert to know that.

But still-

Alec swallows. “But Max already has a middle name.”

He looks back to Magnus, just in time to see him frown.

Because no, he doesn’t.

They’ve never discussed it. Even with all the names being suggested and shouted and pushed on them again and again and _again_ all fucking night, he and Magnus haven’t said a word about it. 'Max' had been an easy decision. It had barely been a conversation. Once Isabelle had first said it, it had just… clicked.

But they haven’t said a damn word about his middle name.

Alec keeps looking at Magnus. Because this is… a little bold of him, to say the least. Deciding something like this without talking about it at all. But, _fuck,_ if Alec can decide to adopt a goddamn baby with just one glance, surely he and Magnus can make a decision like this without actually needing to say it out loud first.

Because he knows what Max’s middle name is. Without having a discussion. Without saying it once. After they’d decided on ‘Max’, it just seemed… obvious.

And he and Magnus understand each other. They’re on the same page. They can understand so much without saying it. And Alec wants Magnus to know how _serious_ he is about this. He wants Magnus to know that he means this, without any doubt or hesitation.

Still, there’s a moment, a moment where he’s left looking helplessly at Magnus’s confused little frown, where he worries that this isn’t going to work-

But then, Magnus smiles. His little smile. Alec’s little smile.

And they know. They _both_ know.

“Oh,” Robert says quietly. “I didn’t- Of course.” He clears his throat, like he’s embarrassed, but pretending not to be. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think to… ask. With everyone talking about it so much, I suppose we didn’t even consider that you might have already…” He takes a breath, and it’s a little forced. “Well. What is it?”

Alec raises his eyebrows at Magnus. He feels the corner of his mouth lift in a small, crooked smile.

Magnus keeps his eyes on Alec, and gives one quiet, wet laugh. “Ragnor.” And he looks down at their son. “Max Ragnor Lightwood-Bane.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Why would they name him Michael???_
> 
> If you follow me on tumblr, there's a chance you've already seen my [opinion](http://my-nameless-bliss.tumblr.com/post/145215143756) on this subject. While I accept the overall canonical story about how Magnus and Alec come to adopt Max, I wanted to make it as clear as possible that in the ALDNT verse, they name their son after Ragnor Fell, not some shadowhunter dude that neither of them even knew. 
> 
> The circumstances surrounding Max's adoption and Magnus and Alec's engagement (including some of the dialogue) are taken from the short story "Born to Endless Night" from the "Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy" series. I just wanted to expand on the engagement a bit (which I feel is glossed over, considering how important it is, and then never even gets mentioned again?) and fix this one _massive_ canonical mistake in Max's name.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec slides the king of spades to the top of his phone’s screen with his thumb.  
> “Why do you have an American accent?”  
> Magnus sputters out a laugh. “What?”

Alec slides the king of spades to the top of his phone’s screen with his thumb. The four completed stacks of cards explode into pixelated fireworks.

“Why do you have an American accent?” he asks as he waits for the ‘New Deal’ button to pop up.

Magnus sputters out a laugh. “What?”

Alec furrows his eyebrows as he starts a new game of FreeCell. “I mean, you’ve been here a while, but you’ve lived other places longer, right? Wouldn’t your most prominent language be, like… Spanish, probably? And you spent all that time in London before you ever came here, so shouldn’t _that_ mean you have a British accent? What country were you in when you first learned English?”

Magnus just laughs again, and snuggles a little against Alec’s chest. “Where’d this come from?” The words are muffled by the pen he’s holding between his teeth.

Alec moves a few cards. “It doesn’t make _sense,_ Magnus. When you were born, American accents probably didn’t even exist yet. America was barely a thing.”

Magnus takes the pen from his mouth and scribbles a few words into the notebook that’s resting in his lap. “And it took eight months of dating me for you to finally realize this?”

Alec frowns. “Well, I…” He frowns more. “Yeah. I guess.”

Though, to be fair, it’s been on his mind for a few weeks now. Not nagging at his brain, not something he really _needs_ to know. But it’s something he’s been wondering about. A little thought. And now seems like the perfect time to ask.

Because nothing’s happening today. It’s a Nothing Day.

Alec _loves_ Nothing Days.

He doesn’t have to be at the Institute at all today. Izzy and Jace have been sending him periodic updates, but they’ve both made it clear that they can get along fine without him (actually, they’d said that his presence would be completely unnecessary, but he knows they didn’t mean it to sound that dickish, because they love him).

And while Magnus actually has a shit-ton of work to do today, it happens to be pretty… chill. Some unsettlingly shady customer has hired him to translate an unsettlingly shady text written in an unsettlingly shady demonic language. Magnus has no idea how said customer acquired said text, and apparently, he’d had no interest in finding out - though he had required the customer to clean all the crusted blood and ichor off of the book before he’d touch it. Alec would be kinda worried about the whole thing, but he doesn’t want to try and take this from Magnus. Because it’s a pretty big win for him. Magnus might literally be the only person on the planet who can read this language (because it’s so ancient and inhuman that it apparently has to be re-translated and decoded through a few different languages before it’ll make any sense in English), so he’d charged the customer an _obscene_ amount of money…

But Magnus fucking _loves_ nerdy magic stuff like this. Translating texts and doing fancy equation things for new spells and sitting in his dusty old library with a dozen giant old books and potion bottles open around him… that’s his favorite part of his job. He’s never outright admitted as much, but he doesn’t have to. It’s obvious. He’s a total nerd.

So he would have gladly translated this skeezy old book for free. And he’d conned this skeezy old customer into giving him a small fortune for it. Alec would feel a little morally uncomfortable with the situation, but he has to admit that from Magnus’s perspective, it’s just good business. Damn good business.

And it means that for the next few days, all Magnus’s job requires is for him to have the creepy old book in one hand, and a notebook in the other. He can do this anytime, anywhere.

And right now, he’s doing it on the couch. Curled up with Alec.

They’ve been like this all day. They’ve gotten up a few times, to use the bathroom, or get some food, or change positions when one of their limbs falls asleep. But for the most part, they haven’t done a damn thing.

Right now, Alec is sprawled out across the length of the couch. This week’s model has really high, squishy arms, stable enough for him to recline with his legs stretched out, so he’s not quite sitting, not quite lying down.

And Magnus is cozied in between Alec’s legs, resting his head against Alec’s chest, using Alec’s thigh as an armrest to help prop up the creepy demon book (which only makes Alec _slightly_ uncomfortable, even though Magnus has assured him it’s perfectly safe).

Alec had spent the night, so they’ve been like this since they first woke up. Magnus is still completely _un_ -made-up, clean face and loose hair, wearing a ridiculously soft silk robe without a damn thing underneath it. But Alec-

Alec’s somehow…

Huh.

He hasn’t actually thought about it like this before, but he realizes that he’s reached a point in his life where he’s _more_ comfortable with a full face of makeup. While Magnus uses a Nothing Day as a chance to not put on anything, Alec uses it as a chance to put on _everything._ He still only uses the barest traces of makeup when he’s at the Institute, so a day spent entirely in the loft is a chance for him to try out all the stuff he’s still working to understand. So his ‘lazy day in’ look includes foundation, eyeshadow, and a new bronze-colored lipstick (because Magnus said it would look good with his eyes). And it’s not just that. It’s…

Panties aren’t really ‘new’. Not anymore. It’s been almost two months since Magnus took him shopping, since he started building up his own little collection of pretty lingerie. He’s been wearing pretty things like this every single day for almost two months.

But it’s still really different to get to wear _just_ a pair of dark blue panties, made of nothing but ruffled layers of lace. Just the panties, with no jeans or sweatpants or anything ugly covering them. Nothing to hide them. He loves these panties. Not only because the lace is so soft and comfortable, but because… this particular shade of blue…

It goes really well with the tank top he’s wearing.

The tank top _is_ new. Magnus gave it to him a few days ago. And while it’s pretty damn obvious that Magnus ‘secretly’ wants Alec to wear it outside the loft, he seems perfectly pleased to see him willing to wear it inside. It’s at least something. It’s a start. They both know it’ll be a while before he wears this where someone else could see him. Because it’s… nice. It’s…

It’s pretty.

Alec isn’t quite sure where Magnus found it. He’d just had it waiting in his closet one night, hanging next to Alec’s other clothes. It’s not like it’s fancy or anything. It’s just a soft, cotton tank top. It’s thick stripes of white and gray, with…

Lace.

It’s the first time Alec’s worn lace on anything other than his underwear. And it shouldn’t really be that different, but it… yeah. It is.

The tank top has a thick border of lace on the bottom, at least two inches of it. And there’s a slightly thinner trim on the top. The straps are entirely lace. And it’s all the same dark blue as his panties. It matches perfectly. It’s cut low on his chest, with a little dip right in the middle. Alec’s not sure if this is genuinely a woman’s tank top, or if it was just designed to look like one. But it definitely has that whole - that whole _cleavage_ thing happening.

Which is probably why Magnus wanted him to wear it so badly. It’s tight. It barely covers his chest, it doesn’t cover his arms or shoulders at all. The fabric is thin. It…

Fuck. It shows off more than it covers.

That’s why he’s wearing it now. It’s pretty - it’s _so_ pretty - but it makes him feel just about as naked as actually _being naked_ does.

But that’s fine right now. Because it’s just them. At home. On a Nothing Day. He’s just wearing lace panties. And a lace tank top. And his makeup turned out really good. He looks… pretty. And he and Magnus are snuggled up on the couch, with no reason to leave. Just snuggled up. Being pretty together.

It’s really fucking nice.

They’ve had an endless queue of movies playing on the tv. All ones that they’ve watched enough that they don’t _really_ need to pay attention to enjoy them anymore, but if they want to pay attention, it’ll be entertaining. It’s the perfect background for this kind of laziness. Something they can go in and out of and still appreciate. Right now, they’re about three songs into ‘Hedwig and the Angry Inch’ (which is a bit too intense for a Nothing Day in Alec’s opinion, because if he accidentally starts paying attention at the wrong time, he’s gonna burst into tears, and that’s not what he wants right now). Magnus has been humming along, but his focus has been entirely on his work.

Until Alec started talking.

Because it’s a Nothing Day.

And for some reason, for some weird reason that Alec will never understand, Nothing Days just… make Magnus talk.

Like, _really_ talk.

The things he’ll never say, that he’ll never admit to anyone, not even Alec. He’ll say them on a Nothing Day. It makes no fucking sense. Alec thinks that maybe the laziness wears off his mental filter? Whatever it is, he’ll tell Alec things on a Nothing Day that Alec can try for _weeks_ to pry out of him otherwise. It’s strange, all the alcohol in the world doesn’t loosen Magnus’s tongue at all. But a day on the couch watching movies could make him write a tell-all memoir. Which is why Alec saves all of his questions for Nothing Days.

Like this one.

It’s not like Magnus wouldn’t explain his accent on any other day. It’s just easier to start the conversation like this. Without a lead-in, or a reason. It’s so easy to ask Magnus _anything_ when he’s like this.

“Is it, like…” Alec tips his head back against the sofa as he tries to accurately form his question, “Do you have to _think_ about it? With all those languages and stuff, do you have to pick what your accent sounds like? Did you _choose_ to have an American accent at some point?”

Magnus chuckles as he carefully turns another frail page in the demon book. “I suppose you could say that. I can do an _impressive_ number of accents.”

Alec perks up-

“No,” Magnus says flatly, answering the question before Alec can ask it, “I’m not going to do a bunch of accents for you.”

Alec frowns, both at Magnus, and at his game of FreeCell, which he seems to have lost already. “But you don’t always sound American?”

“Well-” Magnus starts, but stops immediately, like he has to think harder than he expected. He starts nibbling absently on the end of his pen. “I sound however I want to sound. I do what suits me best in any given situation.” He crosses out something he’d written at the top of the notebook page and re-writes something else in tiny letters above it. “There are clients who are willing to pay more if I seem… mystical. Particularly mundanes; they just _love_ the idea of an exotic sorcerer. I’m always willing to exploit their prejudices for profit. And, of course, there are nephilim who won’t pay me _at all_ if I seem even the slightest bit foreign, no matter where I live at the time.”

He scribbles some sort of symbol into the margin. “Sometimes, when I’m feeling particularly morbid, I like to _prove_ to everyone - and myself, I suppose - that I don’t…” he takes a breath, and taps his pen against the page. “That I don’t really belong anywhere. That it’s been too long, and I can’t have a ‘home’ anymore. A native language, or accent.” He hums lightly, like he’s bouncing away from that thought. “And you’d be surprised, darling, at how many places you can go where people automatically assume that an Asian man _must_ be foreign. There’s nothing quite as satisfying as finding someone like that, and speaking to them in their own language. Speaking it better than they do.” He chuckles to himself as he flips back a few pages in his notebook, looking at a diagram-thing he’d drawn a few hours ago.

Alec breathes out a quiet laugh as he hopelessly tries to salvage his current card game. “So do you always have to think about it? Before you talk?”

“Oh, _god_ no,” Magnus says, a bit more dramatically than necessary. “I would never speak again if I always had to put that much effort into it. No, I’ve been vaguely American long enough for it to be the default.” He makes a quiet sound, and somehow Alec can just _tell_ that he’s smirking even though he can’t see his face. “However, it’s still surprisingly easy to accidentally slip away from speaking English from time to time, if I’m…  distracted enough. But of course,” he shifts, and his lower back rubs rather… noticeably against Alec’s crotch, “you already know that.”

Blood rushes to Alec’s face so suddenly that it makes his eyes slip out of focus, and his phone screen blurs into illegibility.

Because… yes. Alec does know that. Alec is _well_ aware of that.

It doesn’t happen all the time, but still. There have been _several_ occasions where Magnus has - _fuck_ \- where he’s moaned out Alec’s name, and followed it with a string of words that Alec can’t understand. The first time it had happened, Alec hadn’t even been able to tell what language it was. But after a while, he’s realized that there are some weird _patterns_ to it. By now, Alec knows that Magnus is most likely to slip into Portuguese when they’re being particularly gentle and loving with each other, French when Alec is being unusually assertive, and Tagalog, which Alec has only ever heard Magnus speak when Alec is - he feels his blush intensify at the thought - fucking him (which is way too specific to be a coincidence, and Alec kinda wants to know the story behind that).

Alec can practically _feel_ the stutter building in his throat, so he chooses to not say anything. He just makes a small sound of acknowledgement that does _not_ end up sounding like a squeak, and goes back to his card game - which he then remembers that he’s lost.

And Magnus goes back to circling and crossing out various symbols in his little diagram. Pretending that he’s blissfully unaware of the images he’s just put in Alec’s head, or of how his back is still a little _too_ snug against Alec’s dick. Casually pretending like he has no idea. He just keeps working, and starts humming along to ‘Sugar Daddy’ (and _that_ timing is far too convenient for it to be an accident, dammit).

It’s… it’s mean. That’s what it is. Nothing Days are for laziness and relaxation, _not_ for Alec to spend every drop of energy he has actively trying to make his blood rush to his face just so it can’t go anywhere _else._

Just to get his damn brain under control again, he scrambles to try and think of one of the other questions he’d wanted to ask today. He’d had a bunch of them, why the fuck can’t he think of any just because Magnus makes a vague _reference_ to sex? It’s not fair-

Oh, yeah.

“So do you- um. In other languages, do you have… different nicknames?” He clears his throat, finally feeling his face start to cool down. “I mean, like, nicknames that come from your actual name. Not like ‘dear’ or anything, I know that’d be different.”

Magnus goes back to tapping his pen against the page. He makes another little thinking noise. “I suppose it’s pronounced differently in a few languages, but I’m not sure if that’s what you mean.”

“Really?”

“Mmmm-hm,” Magnus shifts a little bit, stretching out his legs and _finally_ sliding his back to a more comfortable distance from Alec’s dick. “It’s particularly cute in Danish. But while I appreciate the charm, it certainly ruins the whole ‘badass’ quality that drew me to the name in the first place.”

Alec chuckles. “Do people always end up giving you the same sorts of nicknames? Or do you have like, hundreds of different ones?”

“I think you may be overestimating the number of people who think they can give pet names to the High Warlock of Brooklyn, darling,” Magnus says with just a _hint_ of sarcasm.

“I'm serious,” Alec says as he struggles to suppress laughter. “Does everybody end up calling you the same things, or are there enough that it’s…” he gets tied up in his own train of thought, and has to stop talking to disentangle himself. “Is it weird to have two people call you the same thing? Would it be weird to hear… I mean, like if I called you a nickname that someone else gave you a hundred years ago. Would that be weird for you?”

Magnus starts chewing his pen cap again, and he somehow manages to make it seem playful. “I don’t think I’d _mind,_ per se. I suppose you _could_ if you wanted to. I’m just not sure if calling me ‘Sugar’ or ‘Pussycat’ is really your style.”

Alec makes an inarticulate, shocked sound before he can think better of it. “Someone called you _Pussycat?”_ He’s proud of himself for only sounding mildly horrified.

Magnus nods, and his loose hair tickles Alec’s barely-covered chest.

Alec’s not really sure why he cares, but he finds himself asking “Who was it?” with a sense of morbid fascination. “Why would anyon-” he closes his eyes. “By the Angel, it was Camille, wasn’t it?”

“It was Ragnor.”

Wh-

Alec chokes on the first burst of laughter, but the rest of it comes out just fine. Sudden, loud, and strong enough to shake his body so hard that he’s afraid he might make Magnus fall off of the couch.

“It was _not_ Ragnor,” Magnus says placatingly, rubbing Alec’s thigh like he’s trying to soothe him.

But the damage is done. Alec can’t fucking breathe. And his enthusiasm is just making Magnus laugh too, which sets him off _further,_ and it’s horrible circular reaction, and in a handful of seconds Alec’s laughing so hard that his stomach hurts.

By the time he manages to calm the fuck down, he’s tired. He’s fucking _tired_ from laughing. He’s not sure if that says more about how hard he’d laughed, or just how little he’s had to physically exert himself today. Serves him right for skipping his morning workout.

But even though he’s suddenly exhausted and blinking actual goddamn _tears_ out of his eyes, he still can’t quite get the idea out of his head. “So, was it Camille?”

Magnus is still giggling a little, and readjusting his Alec-shaped armrests. He sighs grandly. “No. That particular name came out of a little fling in the early twenties. Honestly…” he bites down on the pen, making a sound like he’s _really_ thinking hard. “I don’t think I even remember his name. Hm.” He writes a few more words in his notebook. “To be fair, I doubt he would have remembered my name either. We weren’t exactly there for the _conversation.”_

Alec wrinkles his nose.

He likes hearing about Magnus’s past- fuck, he absolutely _loves_ it. But no matter how much he loves hearing stories about Magnus’s past relationships, he’s still not a huge fan of hearing stories about Magnus’s past sexual exploits. Alec doesn’t know why the fuck that differentiation is so important to him. It’s not like it’s anything to do with jealousy. He’s perfectly aware that most of the relationships he _does_ like hearing about included plenty of sex, and that awareness never bothers him. It’s just the stories that are _only_ about sex that make him uncomfortable. He thinks maybe it’s somehow… too invasive. It’s too private. Too personal. Alec doesn’t like thinking about Magnus having sex with anyone else, not because he’s jealous of Magnus’s history, but because it’s none of his goddamn business.

That actually… huh. That actually makes sense. Alec thinks that might be it. When he hears about Magnus’s more serious relationships, Alec doesn’t ever have to think about the more… _intimate_ side of things. But if he knows someone was literally just with Magnus for sex, he doesn’t have much of a choice, does he? There’s a huge difference between hearing about the people Magnus really loved, and hearing about nameless guys who called him ‘Pussycat’ and ‘Sugar’-

Except- wait.

Sugar.

Alec knows that one. He’s heard it before.

Or, no. He’s _seen_ it before. That wasn’t some random fling. That was Etta. She’d written it on the cover of her record, the one she’d autographed for Magnus as joke after she first recorded it. Magnus had shown the signed cover to Alec, the last time he’d played it.

Because Magnus plays her record a lot more now. Now that he’s finally talked about her. She used to be the _one_ subject that seemed to be completely off-limits. The mystery woman singing on the record player. Alec had always hated it. Not understanding. Not knowing why this one memory was so painful that Magnus either wouldn’t or couldn’t ever speak about her.

But now, he gets it. Unlike most of Magnus’s other stories, this one is still too… fresh. Too recent. Alec’s pretty sure that she’s the only relationship Magnus had in the entire twentieth century. The only real, serious relationship, anyway. An entire century, and only one person. Alec can’t even try to comprehend how long it must take to recover from losing someone like that. And even though Magnus still hasn’t told him exactly when Etta died, he knows it wasn’t very long ago. A couple decades, at most. It’s not very hard to understand why Magnus only felt comfortable telling Alec about her a few weeks ago.

But that…

That’s another question he has.

Alec knows Magnus is alright with talking about her now. He knows this isn’t off-limits anymore.

But it’s still a little nerve-wracking, after such a lighthearted conversation, to ask “How long were you and Etta together?”

Magnus inhales through his nose, sharp enough to be audible. Alec can feel Magnus’s shoulders tense against his stomach. He obviously wasn’t expecting this particular change in subject.

It takes a moment, but eventually Magnus sighs out, relaxing against Alec again. “Sixteen years. Well, almost. Two months shy of sixteen years.”

But-

No… that’s not…

That can’t be right.

“I thought…” Alec swallows a lump of inarticulate confusion. “I thought you met her in the forties?”

“Winter of thirty-eight.”

Sixteen years? But how could… Sixteen years means Etta would have died in the fifties. And Alec knows that’s not right. They should have been together for… something like _forty-five_ years. At least. “I thought she-” Alec stops himself. Because even if Magnus is comfortable talking about Etta’s death, that doesn’t mean Alec is comfortable being the one to bring it up. “I thought it was more recent than that.” It seems like a fair way of phrasing it. It’s a little… vague. But Magnus can usually figure out what Alec’s trying to say.

And sure enough, after a moment of obvious confusion, Magnus breathes out a quiet “Oh.” And he sets down his book on Alec’s leg, keeping his thumb between the pages to hold his place. “Etta and I weren’t together when she died.”

That’s-

“What?”

How is that…? That doesn’t make sense.

“Etta left me, darling.” Magnus’s voice is gentle, and he rubs the back of his hand across Alec’s thigh. Almost like he’s trying to be… comforting. Like he’s trying to be careful about saying this. Like he’s worried about it sounding too harsh.

Fuck, it’s Magnus’s goddamn tragedy and he’s trying to be nice about it for _Alec’s_ sake. It’s fucking ridiculous.

Magnus hums lightly, and puts on that forcibly cheerful tone that Alec’s become so unfortunately familiar with. “She left me and found herself a husband, and a family. All the things she wanted that I couldn’t give her.”

Well, fuck. That makes even _less_ sense.

What the fuck is that supposed to even mean? Yes, Alec realizes he’s more than a little biased, but he doesn't understand why anyone would think they somehow _couldn’t_ have those things with Magnus. Well, Alec knows warlocks can’t have biological children, but still. Marriage? Why would she think she couldn’t have that with him? Alec genuinely can’t imagine someone having that chance and _not_ taking it. Hell, it’s not like Alec hasn’t thought about… once or twice…

But that’s not important.

Also… Alec wonders…

It was the forties, so maybe. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he’s an Asian man, and she was an African-American woman. With how much shit he has to put up with from shadowhunters, sometimes Alec forgets that Magnus faces just as much racism in the mundane world. It’s just for a different reason.

But, no matter what her reasons were…

Etta left him.

Alec didn’t know that. And yeah, he realizes that he’s never actually _asked_ how that particular story ended, but. The way Magnus talks about her… it had never even occurred to Alec that they might have broken up. He’d been completely convinced that she’d stayed with him until she died. That they’d had at least a few decades together. In all of Magnus’s stories about her, they both always seem so… old. In a good way. A picturesque way. An old couple who’ve been together forever. Calm and comfortable and certain, like how Alec has always pictured grandparents’ marriages to be (not that Alec’s ever had any grandparents in his life to set that example).

And Alec knows that Magnus has…

Oh.

No. He doesn’t _know._ He’s just guessed. Inferred. From a few things that Magnus has said. Alec had always assumed that Magnus meant Etta, but if he was wrong about that detail, maybe… he’s wrong about the whole thing?

It’s a horrible question. It’s intentionally inviting awful, _awful_ memories. But it’s a Nothing Day. They can talk about anything on days like this. And if Magnus doesn’t want to answer, Alec knows he just - won’t answer. So…

“But you… you have done that before?” Alec fiddles with his phone - even though the screen’s gone black - just for something to do with his hand. “Been with someone mortal until…” He tries to find a better way to say it. Well, a less terrible way, at least. There’s no _good_ way. “Been with them their whole life?”

Magnus has completely abandoned the pretense of working on his translation now. The book is still closed on Alec’s thigh, and his other hand is resting on his notebook, gripping his pen tightly in his fist. Alec’s not sure if he’s going to say anything. It doesn’t seem like he will. Maybe he’ll turn up the volume on the movie instead, to stop the conversation. Or he’ll change the subject. Or he’ll go back to his work. Ignore the question completely.

Alec can feel the tension in Magnus’s body, and he feels horrible for it. He feels like an absolute jackass for bringing up something like this. It had been such a nice day, and Alec's gone and fucked it all up for curiosity's sake. He’s not entirely surprised with himself for ruining the nice mood, but he’s definitely disappointed-

“Once.”

The silence between them had gotten so tense that Magnus’s voice seems loud, even though it’s barely above a whisper.

Magnus takes a deep breath, rising and falling a little against Alec’s chest. “A _very_ long time ago. I was practically still young then, in the traditional sense.” He breathes out a sort of half-laugh through his nose. “She certainly always made me feel young, anyway.”

And that should be the end of it. Alec _knows_ that should be the end of it. But he’s had this idea in his head for such a long time, and now he’s finding out that the truth is completely different, and Magnus answered him so he must not be too upset by the subject and Alec’s goddamn curiosity is getting the better of him-

“Do you still love her?” It’s out of Alec’s mouth before he can think better of it.

Because that’s crossing the line. That’s crossing every fucking line there is.

Who the fuck is he to ask a question like that? Like it’s not bad enough for him to bring up a subject this personal, this _painful,_ now he’s gotta get weirdly invasive about it too. It’s not his place to ask something like that, even if he really does want to know. What the fuck is he thinking?

He’s about to apologize and take it back and take back everything else he’s ever said in his entire life…

But Magnus just makes another little noise. Like he’s considering it. He sounds a little… surprised. But not upset. 

“In a way,” he says quietly. “Not the same way as when she was alive. But…” He hums, and starts idly twirling his pen between his fingers. “I don’t think anyone who loses someone they love ever _really_ stops loving them. You move on, of course. It’s not the same, _present_ sort of love. But it’s still there, in the background. Like a memory.” He gives another one of those breathy, sort-of-laughs. “Because they died while you still loved them. That’s what you know, what you’re left with. You can’t unlearn it. It’s muscle memory.”

Magnus moves a bit, like he’s trying to cozy himself further into Alec’s space. Alec immediately lets his phone drop to the couch cushions, and he wraps his freed hands around Magnus’s waist. His first instinct is to change the subject, to think of a different question for him. One of the silly ones. He has a few of those. The least he can do is help lighten the mood.

But he doesn’t. Because there’s something in the way Magnus is breathing, something about the quality of the silence that lets Alec know that he isn’t done yet. He can tell that Magnus is gonna say something else, he’s just figuring it out first. Alec runs his fingers across Magnus’s stomach, feeling the silk under his fingertips. And he waits.

At least a full minute must pass before Magnus takes a deep, preparatory breath. “It’s been such a long time. When you have a few centuries to grieve, eventually the pain fades, and the memories are all good ones. But… th- hm.” He clears his throat. Alec’s not used to hearing him fumble his words like this. “Sometime around the turn of the last century, I realized… I can’t quite remember what she looked like.” His whole body tenses again for a moment.

And then he laughs. One of his forced, broken laughs. “That wasn’t exactly a _pleasant_ realization. Honestly, it put a damper on the whole decade,” he says, clearly trying to sound flippant.

By the Angel.

Fuck.

Alec opens his mouth.

_Fuck._

He closes it again.

Because what could he say to that?

What the fuck could anyone possibly say to that?

It’s so…

Unthinkable.

Alec’s always known that Magnus’s immortality has taken away so many people he’s loved. But he’d never thought that it was possible - he’d never even _considered_ \- that it could take away something as personal and invaluable as his _memories._

And it… it sort of makes sense. Hundreds of years. Alec can’t even remember things that happened a couple of months ago. _Hundreds_ of years. Yeah, that’s definitely enough time for something to slip away.

But it’s so… cruel. It’s fucking cruel to think that after already having to endure the pain of losing someone he’d loved, Magnus has also lost something so basic. So fundamental. The idea that he couldn’t keep her, and now he can’t even have the memory of her _face-_

Shit.

There’s…

In a stupid, _stupid_ moment of truly disgusting vanity, Alec feels a flicker of… fear.

It’s horrible. It’s the most selfish thought he’s ever had in his entire life. But he can’t help but wonder if there’s going to come a time when… Magnus can’t remember what Alec looked like either.

It’s _awful_ of him, but once it’s in his head, it won’t get out. He can’t help but wonder how many years it’ll take for the image of his face to slip out of Magnus’s mind. If he’ll be a series of memories where the actual _person_ of him is blurred out. He tries to make himself stop thinking about it but it just sticks in his fucking brain until it’s oppressive enough to make his heart speed up-

But Magnus, being Magnus, just runs his hand across Alec’s thigh again. “It was before photographs, darling.”

Alec breathes out.

Right.

Obviously.

Right.

Now Alec doesn’t feel stupid for being selfish. He just feels stupid for being stupid.

But, fuck, it doesn’t make it any easier. Any less horrible.

Alec doesn’t actually know when cameras were invented, and he also doesn’t know _exactly_ how old Magnus really is, but he figures Magnus must have been alive for quite a while before photography. And while Magnus keeps a _lot_ of pictures, Alec’s never seen anything older than that, anything from before cameras. Any portraits, or drawings, or whatever else people might have done to preserve images.

Which means that this woman wasn’t even the only one. There must be so many people Magnus had known and cared about and loved whose faces have been taken from his memory. It's-

Magnus clears his throat again. And he reopens his book, and holds his pen to his notebook. The movie is between songs and there isn’t any music playing, but Magnus starts humming the last song again.

So. Conversation over, then.

Alec’s not surprised. He’s actually a little grateful. It’s not like there’s anything he could say to try and help. To make it better. And Magnus has said more than enough. He doesn’t talk about his _past-_ past very often. The first century or so of his life. It’s usually one tiny fact, here and there, and that’s all. This was…

This was a lot more than a little tidbit. If he doesn’t want to say anything else about his early life for a few more _months,_ Alec thinks that’s perfectly understandable.

He keeps one hand around Magnus’s waist, but he uses the other to pick up his phone again. Needing the distraction. Needing to think about something else. Needing a stupid card game.

But when he unlocks his phone, it doesn’t go back to his lost game. It goes to his home screen.

To the picture of him and Magnus.

It’s from a few weeks ago. They were on the subway (hardly Alec’s favorite means of transportation, but Magnus had stubbornly _refused_ to make a portal to take Alec shopping for nail polish). It was the first time Alec had done a full face of makeup out in public, and he had even worn a _purple_ shirt instead of black or gray. And Magnus had been fucking _thrilled_ about it. He’d spent the entire evening dropping casual little compliments about how nice he thought Alec looked, and how excited he was about it, and it…

It had been really nice.

But however nice it was, Alec had still fought like hell when Magnus pulled out his phone to take a picture of them. He’d protested and complained and tried desperately to wriggle out of Magnus’s side-hug.

So the resulting picture features Magnus, in full view, beautifully framed, absolutely glowing even though he’s in that awful, dirty, fluorescent lighting…

And Alec, barely visible in the far right corner, blushing bright red and doing his best to duck out of sight.

Magnus had sent him the picture as a joke, since it’s not a good picture, really. But Magnus looks so happy, and beautiful. And even though Alec’s just a purple shoulder, some messy hair, and one sliver of his embarrassed face… he can still see his eyeshadow.

And it looks good. It looks damn good.

And he’d wanted the background of his phone to be a picture of him and Magnus. He thinks that’s fairly normal. But with how much Alec fucking _hates_ having his picture taken, it’s not like he has many options. He always fights so hard when Magnus tries to get a half-decent picture of him-

Oh.

Shit.

Fucking _hell._

Pictures.

It hits Alec so hard that he has to close his eyes and take a deep breath.

He’d never thought about it like this before. But… fuck. After what Magnus has just told him…

His eagerness to get a picture of Alec makes a lot more fucking sense.

Alec’s stomach twists, which isn’t exactly a comfortable counterpoint to his racing heart.

What the fuck was he thinking?

He’d always assumed it was just… for fun. Trying to take silly photos. Maybe a way to let Alec know when Magnus thinks he looks particularly good, even? But somehow, he’d _never_ considered that Magnus just…

Wants pictures of him. Wants memories.

Alec wants to find a way to kick himself in the fucking face. How the fuck did it take him eight months to realize this?

And also…

He thinks about how much he loves this picture. Enough to make it the first thing he sees in the morning, after he turns off his alarm. And it’s not even a _good_ picture. Why…

Why doesn’t he want more of that? If he likes this shitty half-framed subway photo so much, how much more would he love an actual _good_ picture of the two of them? He should-

Fuck.

He should be taking pictures all the time. Simple, stupid pictures. Videos, even. Not just of big, important things. But all the little, unimportant shit. Because… why not? The thought of it is almost, sort of…

Comforting.

Because this doesn’t have to happen to Magnus again. He doesn’t have to forget… anything. They have an easy, guaranteed way to make sure that Magnus never has to forget what Alec looks like. His smile. What he looks like first thing in the morning. The exact color of his eyes. What his voice sounds like. His laugh.

Magnus can keep all of that. In a hundred years, two hundred years, a _thousand_ years, he can still have it. Still have all his memories of Alec.

And even though that’s not exactly something Alec really _enjoys_ thinking about, it’s also, kind of… nice.

Yeah, it’s pretty fucking morbid to sit here and think about his own death, but thinking about it in this particular context is… well. It’s certainly not bad. It’s not a bad feeling to think that in a hundred years, he might be one of these stories. That someday, Magnus is going to be telling someone else about the time he spent with Alec.

Because Alec’s been on the other side of that. He’s heard so many stories about other people, and, yeah. Hearing these stories is… It’s great. Magnus talks about the people he’s loved with so much tenderness and fondness and _respect._ And yes, obviously there’s some sadness to it, but for the most part, there’s really… not. Magnus doesn’t talk about regret and difficulty and loss. He talks about happiness. And love. The way he talks about these people is always so detailed and thoughtful and loving that Alec can’t help but understand exactly why Magnus loved them. Hell, Magnus has even made Alec understand what had drawn him to _Camille_ when he was with her. Magnus has this incredible way of telling _real_ stories about people. Not necessarily the most interesting or most important things that had happened with them, but the ones that make Alec feel he really knows who they were, and what they were like.

Magnus speaks so beautifully about the people he’s loved that Alec can’t help but feel a little… honored. To be on that list. To be a story that Magnus tells someday. Because it’ll be such a good story. Whatever he ends up telling someone about Alec, it’ll be nice. So nice.

And Alec can’t help but wonder… what story it might be. What would Magnus tell someone, two hundred years from now, to make them understand why someone like Magnus was ever interested in someone like Alec? Would it be their first kiss? Interrupting a wedding like one of those romantic comedies Clary and Simon always watch would certainly have some retell value. Or maybe something before that. Something about how difficult it was for them to finally get together in the first place. How much Alec had fought it, and how hard Magnus had to try. Hopefully it’s something a little nicer than that. Something… sweeter. Alec doesn’t want to be that stubborn, bitter guy who’d done everything in his power to _not_ want to be with Magnus in the first place. Maybe it’d-

Ah, fuck.

Alec sighs out through his nose.

It’s gonna be when he fell down the fucking stairs, isn’t it?

Of course it is. _Of course_ it is.

All these amazing stories about these amazing people and the amazing relationships they had with Magnus and then: ‘Oh, then there was Alec Lightwood, a trained warrior who fell down a flight of stairs on our first date just because he couldn’t handle a cute guy kissing him.’

Some legacy.

But, by the Angel, it’s so damn fitting that Alec can’t even be mad. It’s not like Magnus is going to look back on this relationship and remember Alec for his suaveness and emotional stability. No, he’s gonna remember Alec as the idiot who fell down the stairs, and took naps drooling on Chairman Meow, and _stuttered_ the first time he’d ever said ‘I love you’. Hell, the goddamn picture he’ll end up showing people is probably gonna be Alec blushing.

Because that’s another thing that Magnus always does so well. When he tells Alec about someone from his past, he never just grabs the first picture of them he can find. He chooses carefully. And somehow, it ends up being even _more_ impressive than the stories. Because it’s never a careless, ordinary photo. It’s something that’s so… honest.

The strip of silly pictures he’d taken with Etta in a photo booth on Coney Island. The blurry frame from after he and Camille had sat for a serious portrait when cameras were still new, where she’s leaning in to whisper something in his ear, and he’s trying so hard not to laugh. And - probably Alec’s favorite - the thick stack of polaroids of Ragnor, dozens of sloppily-taken photos of his face ranging from unamused to completely _enraged,_ apparently all taken over the course of an hour, when Magnus had been a little too excited about the invention of photographs that developed instantly. The pictures Magnus chooses are just as important as the stories.

And, now that Alec’s finally going to take his head out of his ass about being a camera-shy idiot, he realizes that the picture Magnus will show people of him… probably doesn’t exist yet.

And that’s…

Pretty exciting.

Partly because he has some control in that. To some extent, he can choose how he’s remembered. He can take nice pictures with Magnus, where they’re happy, and where Alec looks pretty. Where Alec likes how he looks. Makeup and colors and smiling. It’s nice to know that he can be remembered as someone who liked himself.

And also… there’s just so much _possibility_ in it. Alec doesn’t like getting ahead of himself, or being overly optimistic, or feeling like he’s thinking about this in a way that Magnus isn’t. But by now, after over half a year with Magnus… he doesn’t think it’s such a crazy idea. That the picture Magnus decides is quintessentially Alec might not be taken for a while yet. Maybe a long while. Maybe he’ll be old, with gray hair and wrinkles, after getting to have a few decades together. Maybe-

Huh.

Maybe it could… be a wedding photo. It’s-

It’s not something Alec’s really thought about. Then again, this isn’t the first time he’s thought about it either.

Except he’s not thinking about it. Not like it’s something that might ever…

It’s just. In this context. It’s a nice thought in this context. It’s such a nice image for this particular situation. If Magnus is gonna choose one picture of Alec to show someone centuries from now, to show who Alec was and how much he meant to Magnus…

It’s nice to think that it could be something like that. It’d get a point across so easily. So nicely. A wedding picture. A picture of a ceremony. With rings, and vows, all dressed up, with everyone there, everyone getting to _see_ Alec say how much he loves Magnus, how much he wants this, and nothing else, for the rest of his life-

His heart is racing.

Magnus’s head is still against his chest. He can probably hear how hard Alec’s heart is beating.

Fuck.

He needs to pull himself together.

There’s no point thinking about this. It’s not like he’s gonna _do_ anything about it. It hasn’t even been a year yet. It’s been eight months. _Eight months._ What is that? That’s nothing. Especially to someone who’s hundreds of years old. It’s only been a few months. Alec needs to calm the fuck down.

Magnus is still working, though he’s silent now. Just making small notes, flipping pages, chewing his pen. But he’s still a little tense.

And, fuck. That’s all Alec’s fault. For bringing up such shitty subjects. By the Angel, it’s a goddamn Nothing Day, and Alec just keeps making Magnus talk about _death._ What the shit. Why doesn’t he throw in a couple questions about Magnus’s parents, too? Really rub some salt in the wound?

Alright.

He can still fix this.

Questions.

He’d had a lot of them, and he’s only asked a handful. And there are still some good ones. Some that might actually make Magnus _happy_ for a change. Alec wracks his brain as he unlocks his phone again.

Oh. Right.

“You never really slept with Michelangelo, did you?”

Magnus makes one odd, startled sound.

But then, he laughs. And the sound makes Alec think that he might be doing something right after all.

“No, darling,” Magnus says, and this time there’s nothing forced or insincere about the amusement in his voice. “I’m afraid that by the time I was sexually active, he was far too _dead_ for my taste.”

Yeah, Alec had thought as much. It’s a little strange to not know exactly how old his boyfriend is, but he was pretty sure the entire _century_ was wrong in this case.

But that just brings up a different question: “So why’d you say that you did?”

Magnus shifts his hips, just a little bit. “Well, I don’t know if you recall, darling, but there was a _devastatingly_ cute boy in my apartment at the time. I couldn’t have him laboring under the misapprehension that I’m heterosexual, now could I?”

“And your first instinct was to say ‘I fucked a Renaissance painter’?” Alec asks, doggedly ignoring the fact that Magnus just called him cute, because he doesn’t want to start blushing.

Magnus laughs again. “Well it worked, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, you weren’t exactly being subtle.”

Magnus scoffs. “How dare you. I was being _masterfully_ mysterious.”

“You looked _right at me_ when you said it.” And this time, Alec _does_ blush, just at the memory. “Besides, that wasn’t when-”

Alec cuts himself off, with a graceless choking sound. Which he then tries to cover with a cough. He pointedly gives his full attention back to his phone, even though Magnus can’t see him, and does his best to pretend he didn’t say anything.

But as if _that_ was going to work. “That wasn’t when _what,_ sweetheart?” Magnus sounds genuinely curious, not teasing or prodding at all.

And…

Fuck.

With the things Magnus has said today, the things Alec has asked him and he’s answered so painfully honestly… Alec would have to be a total fucking dick to not return the favor and admit some crap of his own.

He takes a deep breath, trying to keep his pulse from accelerating.

“The whole Michelangelo… thing. That wasn’t when I realized- when I noticed. That you, uh… were. Interested. In me.”

Magnus chuckles dryly. “Yes, I’m fairly certain it took a few more _weeks_ for that to finally sink in-”

“No,” Alec cuts in softly, “I mean I… I already knew. I could already tell, before that.”

There’s a few moments of silence, during which Alec’s face heats up about a thousand degrees.

Finally, Magnus tilts his face to the side. He still can't see Alec's face, but it feels more… invested, somehow. “Alexander, are you telling me that you _knew_ I was flirting with you that day?”

Alec actually chuckles at that. “Like I said. You weren’t being subtle.”

“And when, pray tell, did you catch on?”

Somehow, Alec’s face finds a way to get even hotter. He’s not used to… _talking_ about crap like this. Yes, he loves Magnus, but for some reason, talking about things that have already happened, feelings he’s felt in the past…

It’s so goddamn embarrassing he thinks he might die.

But, fuck. He knows he needs to do this.

“Y-you, ah-” He swallows. “You called me pretty.” Oddly, saying it out loud makes him smile a bit. “You said ‘pretty boy’. To me.” He laughs nervously, and it feels ridiculous.

But Magnus doesn’t laugh. He just hums quietly. “I certainly did.”

“I- I hadn’t…” Alec doesn’t know why his mouth is still going, but he feels like he’s not capable of stopping it. Because Magnus should know this. This is… kinda nice. “No one had ever… called me that. Before. It was the first time anyone ever said it to me.”

It doesn’t sound like much. But it was… hell. At the time, it was everything. For someone to say that to him, to use _that word_ to describe him… And for it to be someone like Magnus. Someone too important to give compliments without meaning them. Someone so unbelievably _beautiful._

Well. Needless to say, Alec certainly hasn’t forgotten how that felt. Even if he doesn’t know how to express any of that with words.

But of course, this is Magnus, so he doesn’t need to.

Because Magnus just tilts his head back, as far as he can, so he can look up and see Alec’s face. “Well, I call them like I see them, angel.”

Alec rolls his eyes, but he knows it probably doesn’t do much to counteract his blush. Or the smile that he can’t quite smother.

Magnus just laughs, and goes back to his work. But Alec can’t handle these damn butterflies that have swarmed in his stomach, so he needs to change the fucking subject again.

“Okay, so… that’s a no for Michelangelo.”

“No for Michelangelo,” Magnus confirms with amusement.

So Alec can mentally cross that off and go to the next bullet point on his ‘I wonder if Magnus has ever hooked up with them’ list. “What about Raphael?”

“I have not had sex with _any_ ninja turtles, darling.”

Alec laughs. “No, like, _Raphael._ Raphael Santiago.”

Magnus-

He shrieks.

He literally, actually _shrieks_ in disgust. Alec’s never heard a sound like it before.

Magnus drops his demon book and his pen and sits up - for the first time in several hours. He twists around so he can actually look at Alec, which also hasn’t happened in quite a while. And he looks _outraged._ “Alec, do not _speak_ to me again for a few days,” he says sharply, holding up a finger. “I need time to thoroughly scrub that disgusting image from my mind.”

Alec’s trying his best not to laugh - he _really_ is - but a few little gurgles still manage to slip out of his throat. “Sorry! I didn’t know.” His voice shakes a bit with the effort to keep it steady. This is just… this definitely isn’t the reaction Alec was expecting. “I just thought… I mean, you’ve known each other for a long time. And he’s- y’know…” He picks his words _very_ carefully. “He’s kinda… cute. In a broody way.”

Magnus gapes at him. Mouth hanging open and everything. He closes his eyes for a moment, like he’s trying to gather himself. Then, he takes a deep breath. “Let me shut this notion down as succinctly and completely as possible for you.”

“No, Mags, I get it, you don’t have to-”

“First of all,” Magnus says grandly, turning his finger so he’s holding it up as a placeholder instead of pointing it in Alec’s face, “he’s not interested. One hundred percent asexual. Second,” another finger, “he’s twelve. Yes, he’s seventy-nine, but let’s be honest, he’s twelve. And third,” instead of holding up another finger, he points out into the living room, like he’s gesturing to some invisible representation of Raphael in the room, “that blood-sucking turd may belong in a dumpster, but he’s also like a son to me.” He grimaces and shivers a bit. “The thought is downright incestuous.”

Alec holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright. I’m _sorry._ I’m very sorry.” He can’t quite keep the smirk off his face, but he does his best.

Because it’s… well it’s kinda cute. To see Magnus get worked up like this. Especially about Raphael. Alec was aware that Magnus knew him in his first days as a vampire, and Magnus has frequently referred to himself as having ‘raised’ him like a child. But this is the first time he’s used the word ‘son’. Actually, this is the first time Magnus has said _anything_ about Raphael that doesn’t sound like thinly-veiled hatred. Alec distantly wonders if Raphael has ever said he thinks Magnus is like a father to him. Alec chokes back another laugh. With all the glitter and whiskey and sarcasm, Alec can’t quite picture anyone considering Magnus Bane to be a father figure.

Well, if anyone would, it kinda makes sense that it’s someone as snarky and weirdly fashionable as Raphael Santiago. They probably go shopping together.

Magnus is still recovering from his ordeal, sticking out his tongue and making unhappy little noises like he’s trying to get a bad taste out of his mouth.

Alec rolls his eyes. “Come on, get back here. I’m cold.” He can’t quite reach far enough to get his hands around Magnus’s waist, but he pets at his stomach a bit, trying to get the point across.

Magnus concedes, and turns back around to snuggle against Alec’s chest again. But he gives a _dramatically_ grand sigh as he does so. Alec can hear him muttering under his breath, not loud enough for him to hear all of it, but he catches the words “snotty teenager” and “probably tastes like hair gel”.

Alec laughs a little as Magnus settles back in and picks up his books. But it brings up another point. “Raphael’s almost _eighty?”_ Alec supposes it’s unlikely for an actual teenager to end up being head of the New York vampires, but still. It’s weird to think that Raphael is older than him. Especially an entire _lifetime_ older than him.

Magnus nods calmly, apparently no longer traumatized by the previous conversation. “Just imagine that little shit as a teenager in the fifties.” He groans. “He was a _nightmare.”_

Without really meaning to, Alec pictures Raphael in a leather jacket, with ridiculously big pompadour hair, smoking a cigarette on the hood of an old t-bird. And-

Huh. He can’t tell if the image is completely fucking ridiculous, or if it kinda… makes sense. Him and the other vampires chasing down werewolves and getting into dance fights like in West Side Story.

Alec chokes on a laugh. At his own damn train of thought. And he doesn’t want to have to explain _why_ if Magnus asks. He’s about to think through his questions again, except, this time-

He smirks. “I don’t believe you.”

“Hm?” Magnus is a bit more engrossed in his work now, and Alec thinks he might only be half-listening.

“I don’t think Raphael’s that old. That kid’s seventeen, tops.”

Magnus sort of chuckles, but not really. “So I’m just _pretending_ to have known him for over sixty years?”

“That’s the thing,” Alec fights to make sure the smile on his face isn’t audible in his tone. “I don’t think _you’re_ that old, either.”

“What, you think…” Magnus scoffs, but he sounds vaguely amused. “You’re saying that I’ve been alive for less than half a century?”

Alec makes sure he sounds completely serious as he opens up another card game on his phone. “I’m saying I don’t buy this whole ‘immortality’ thing at all. I think it’s a scam. You’ve said that people only pay big money for warlocks with an ancient reputation. I think you made it all up to get better business.”

Magnus lets out a sound that might be the start of a word, but it turns into an inarticulate breath. “So… everything I’ve told you? _Hundreds_ of years’ worth of stories?”

“You have a very active imagination,” Alec says calmly. “That’s why you won’t tell anyone how old you actually are. I think you forgot what age you picked, and now you keep changing it so no one can tell you’re lying. ‘Oooh, I don’t tell anyone my real age,’ but it’s just ‘cause you can’t make up your damn mind.”

Magnus scoffs again, and it’s a little harder to tell if he’s  _pretending_ to sound offended. “And all the pictures? They span dozens of decades. You’ve seen me next to the Eiffel Tower while it was still being built.”

“Yeah, it’s called _photoshop,_ Magnus.” Alec clicks his tongue derisively, like Magnus always does when he’s teasing Alec. It’s a nice moment of payback. “Photoshop, costumes, those old-timey picture places at mundane malls. I mean, you can alter anything with magic.”

“Oh, so in this conspiracy theory, I can still do magic? I at least have that?” Magnus asks sarcastically.

“Well yeah. I’ve _seen_ you do magic. I’m not an idiot.”

“And all the other immortal people I know? Are you telling me they’re all just… in on the act?”

“Exactly.” Alec nods. “I don’t know if they’re just your friends, or if you’re paying them. But it’s all bullshit. Catarina’s clearly an actress you hired. You’ve probably only known Camille for a few months. I bet she’s actually really nice, she just wanted a dramatic backstory.”

Magnus is quiet for a moment, like he’s thinking this through carefully. Finally, he gives a smug little hum. “What about your parents? You’re telling me that I somehow convinced Robert and Maryse Lightwood to _pretend_ they tried to kill me when they were in the Circle? And just so I could, what, try and _impress_ you?”

This time, Alec’s the one who scoffs. “That’s your best source? Those racists? All downworlders look the same to them. They don’t even know who they know. Probably couldn’t even pick you out of a lineup.”

And Magnus laughs, loud and surprised. Alec can’t help but smile at the way it makes Magnus’s shoulders shake against his stomach. It takes a few seconds for Magnus to calm down, cuddling further into the couch cushions. “I think someone has snuck a few too many drinks from the minibar today.”

“Yeah, well I think you’re thirty-five, so,” Alec makes a dismissive sound.

“Hey!” Magnus nudges his elbow into Alec’s side.

Alec laughs. “Sorry. _Twenty-_ five.”

Magnus laughs with him, which is nice. It’s not often that Alec gets to be the one teasing Magnus. He thinks this might be a good one to keep in mind. For anytime Magnus tells someone a different age. When he casually name-drops people he’s obviously never met. There’s plenty of opportunities for Alec to bring this back.

After a moment, Magnus closes his book. And he stretches out, pushing back against Alec and flexing his legs all the way down to his toes. He makes a sleepy little sound, not quite a yawn, but still adorably tired. He twists around a bit, until he’s lying on his side. It’s not really an ideal position, considering how propped-up Alec is against the couch. Magnus’s neck can’t be at a comfortable angle as he pillows his head on Alec’s chest. But regardless, he cozies himself in, and starts running his hand along the lace trim of Alec’s tank top.

And, yeah. It’s nice.

Lazing around on a comfy couch. Magnus snuggled between his legs. His pretty lace tank top. His makeup, which he _knows_ is pretty, even if he can’t see it.

Nothing’s happening. And that’s really nice. Just talking, and laughing, and… being. Being together.

Yeah. Alec definitely loves days like this. 

Right when he starts thinking that Magnus might actually drift off into a nap, he stirs a bit. “Anything else?” he mumbles into Alec’s chest.

Alec smiles. He knows he gets too nosy on Nothing Days. But it’s nice to know that Magnus doesn’t mind. Besides, he still has some good questions left.

He thinks for a moment.

“Have you ever been in a duel?”

Magnus laughs. Quiet, and oddly excited. And he moves again, like he’s settling in. “Would you prefer swords, pistols, or magic?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you do when you have half a dozen prompts about small, one-off topics for Magnus and Alec to talk about, and a kink for open and healthy communication?
> 
> Shove all the prompts into one chapter where literally _nothing_ happens and they just lie there and talk about shit for 10k. 
> 
> This chapter is a compilation of all the things my readers have said they wanted Magnus and Alec to address, small details that they wanted to hear more about, and little tidbits that I knew I wouldn't be able to smoothly incorporate into different stories (seriously guys, why does Magnus have an American accent all the way back in the 1790's?). It's basically just a weak excuse for open communication and random headcanons. Sorry about that.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hates doing this.  
> He’s always hated it.  
> Because it’s too easy. It’s too easy to forget himself and forget who he is and forget who he has to be and let himself… imagine.

This mattress is fucking terrible.

How the fuck has Alec survived his entire life sleeping on a mattress that’s this fucking _terrible?_

And, more importantly:

How the fuck has he not noticed it until now? How has he lived all these years in blissful ignorance about his own physical suffering?

For the thousandth time in two hours (though it feels like it’s been at least a few eons by now), Alec rolls over. He’s been on his back for a while, maybe it’s time to try his side again.

And - what a _goddamn fucking surprise_ \- the adjustment doesn’t help at all. He’s still uncomfortable as fuck and kinda jumpy and apparently tonight was the perfect time for him to realize that his mattress was probably used as a medieval torture device and-

And there’s literally no way in hell that he’s ever going to fall asleep tonight.

Alec fucking _loathes_ nights like this.

He hasn’t had one in a while. Actually, it’s been long enough that he’d let himself be kind of… lulled. Into some false hope that they were permanently a thing of the past.

But, when he thinks about it… there have been such _drastic_ improvements in his life recently, it’s just his luck that something shitty needed to happen. To balance things out. He’s had too many amazing nights lately, so the universe had to make sure he reached some sort of equilibrium of happiness and misery.

And thoughts like that are exactly why he can’t make his brain fucking _shut the fuck up_ for two minutes to let him unwind enough to get tired. His body is basically begging him to fall asleep, but his brain is too busy force-feeding him ideas about sleep karma and fucking _equilibrium._

He pulls the pillow out from under his head and smushes it against his face. He’s hoping that sandwiching his head between the mattress and the pillow will somehow keep him from being able to hear his own thoughts. And, failing that, maybe he’ll get deprived of oxygen and pass out. Yeah, it’s not ideal, but if it lets him have a few comatose hours Alec’s pretty sure it’d be worth it.

Godfuckingdammit, he just wants to _sleep._ It’s a basic physical need. Every single person needs it, every single night. It’s not an outrageous request, is it? He’s not being greedy for wanting this one basic element of survival, is he?

His body is fucking exhausted. He’s been out on patrol since dawn, and had been planning on coming back to the Institute and switching out shifts at six (even though that’s more than twelve hours. Over. Twelve. Hours. For one shift. Why don’t Shadowhunters have fucking labor laws?), and the day was perfectly uneventful. Yeah, it was long as fuck, but not much happened, and he was with Isabelle, which was nice, and it was… fine.

So, of course.

After a day of nothing happening, knowing he’d get to go home at six-

At _five fifty-eight_ the report came in that a fight had broken out in a mundane bar. Between a couple of vampires and werewolves.

Of course.

Because it’s _always_ the vampires and the werewolves.

By the Angel, Alec knows it’s not exactly a good mindset for trying to promote peace and harmony and shit, but some days he really thinks the practical solution would be to just make the vampires and werewolves move to opposite sides of the country. Hell, maybe opposite sides of the globe. Let the vampires take the countries where they only have sunlight for a couple hours a day. Everyone’s happy.

Well, they probably wouldn’t be happy. But at least they wouldn’t be getting into fucking bar fights right in the middle of Time Square.

And why did it have to be a _mundane_ bar? If it had been a downworlder place, Alec and Isabelle wouldn’t have had to do shit. They could have just let them duke it out like any other bar fight until everyone gave up and went home with bloody noses.

Fuck, even though it was a mundane bar, Alec _still_ doesn’t think it should have been their responsibility to take care of it. Why the fuck had Maryse told Alec and Isabelle they had to intervene? As if vampires and werewolves can’t take care of their own petty shit. As if they don’t have their own leaders, and their own rules, and their own people to enforce them. It’s not like this was some sort of _attack_ on mundanes. The mundanes weren’t even fucking involved. They were just bystanders, and it’s not like anyone realized there was Shadow World bullshit going on. They just saw a goddamn bar fight. It was just a couple of dumb kids, intentionally looking to cause trouble because they’re _teenagers_ and that’s what teenagers do.

Well, he supposes the vampires might not have _really_ been teenagers, but they looked young enough to need fake ids just to get into the bar.

Either way, it makes no goddamn sense that this was somehow under nephilim jurisdiction. If it had been a regular bar fight, no one would have given a fuck. But then some witness just _had_ to call into the Institute and report that the people fighting _might_ have been downworlders and _boom._ Suddenly Shadowhunters think they have to stick their fucking noses in it.

Goddammit, Alec’s supposed to be stopping demons and other _real_ threats to mundane safety, not breaking up teenage fistfights like he’s a principal at a shitty public school. And no, it’s not like there was any chance he was going to disobey Maryse…

But Alec’s pretty sure that if she hadn’t been there, Alec would have just called Luke and Raphael and let them deal with it. Because that’s their fucking job in the first place, not Alec’s. And they're perfectly capable of doing it. This had nothing to do with Shadowhunters. Maybe if mundanes had gotten involved, or if one of the werewolves had transformed right in the bar, then it would have been Alec’s job. But as it was, Maryse should have minded her own goddamn business.

Seriously. Alec loves his job-

Well. Nights like tonight, he can’t quite use a word that strong. But Alec… likes his job. He loves what his job is _supposed_ to be. The actual, important, world-protecting part of it.  

But then days like this happen, where Alec’s forced to babysit downworlders and give them a slap on the wrist even though they weren’t anywhere _near_ violating the Accords, since the Clave thinks Shadowhunters have the right to police _everything_ downworlders do just because… fuck. Just because.

And it’s bullshit. It’s fucking bullshit and it’s _not_ what Alec signed up for because it’s fucking bullshit and Alec may love what his job is supposed to be, but on days like this all he can do is wonder what sort of options Shadowhunters have for early retirement.

Yeah. That’d be nice. Give Maryse a fancy letter of resignation, pack up all three of his worldly possessions, and get the fuck out of here. Hell, he’d probably make better money working at a mundane fast food place anyway. He could learn how to make fries. It certainly sounds easier than killing demons.

Or maybe-

It’s not like Alec’s ever poked around in Magnus’s finances, but given his apparent lifestyle, it’s not hard to believe that he has enough money to support a small country. It probably wouldn’t even make a dent in his bank account to support Alec. Hell, Alec’s so ridiculously low-maintenance, the only real expense would be food. And since Magnus just magically _takes_ food more often than not (he has an arrangement with the owner of the Whole Foods on third: she looks the other way when inventory doesn’t quite match up, and Magnus sends a check every month), the actual _expense_ probably wouldn’t even change. Alec certainly doesn’t think Magnus would mind.

Yes. This is perfect. It’s the best idea Alec’s ever had. He’ll quit being a Shadowhunter, move out of the Institute, move in to Magnus’s loft, and live a life of quiet luxury as Chairman Meow’s stay-at-home dad.

Alec chuckles weakly into his pillow prison.

Flawless plan. Ten out of ten.

The rational part of Alec’s brain starts blaring like a foghorn. Because the rational part of Alec’s brain realizes that it’s probably not _great_ to seriously consider becoming Magnus Bane’s kept man after only four dates.

But the rational part of Alec’s brain can shove it, because they’ve been four _excellent_ dates. Two and a half excellent weeks. Four excellent dates. No, Alec doesn’t have any basis for comparison, but he can still tell. They’ve been…

Fuck. They’ve been better than anything Alec thought he’d ever have.

Alec presses the pillow a little harder against his face. Because it’s dumb. It is very, very, _very_ dumb that one fleeting thought about his dates with Magnus is enough to make his heart start flopping around all over the place. He’s a fully grown adult man; he should _never_ feel butterflies in his stomach, much less feel them _all the damn time_ because apparently they’ve set up permanent residence inside him like fluttery little parasites. All it takes is one word or mention or _thought_ of Magnus and they just… fucking _swarm._ It’s ridiculous.

Totally ridiculous.

Totally fucking ridiculous.

And, kinda… nice.

Just a little bit.

Because it makes him feel sorta… warm. In a nice way.

And for as long as Alec can remember, his entire existence has been made up of equal parts anxiety and loosely managed self-hatred. So if there’s suddenly something that can actually make him feel the tiniest bit _good,_ just by thinking about it… well. Alec doesn’t think he should have to begrudge himself that, just because it’s not exactly dignified.

After all, it’s not like it’s out of control. So what if his stomach still gets a little twisted up every now and then? It’s not like it’s gonna cause any problems. It’s not like he gets distracted. It’s not like he loses any of his restraint. It’s not like he has to drop everything and think about nothing but Magnus. It’s not like he _has_ to stop whatever he’s doing and pull out his phone to read his thread of texts from Magnus whenever he starts thinking about him. He doesn’t have to do that at all.

But since-

Well.

Since it’s not like there’s anything _better_ he should be doing right now (sleep is still a distant, unachievable dream), it’s not a problem that he’s sort of… already reaching for his phone. Like he’s on autopilot.

He just wants to check the time, or something. It’s just that. Nothing else.

And it’s not like it’s _his_ fault that when he unlocks his phone, it shows him their text conversation right away. He just forgot to exit out of it when he put his phone down for the night. There’s nothing wrong with that.

And-

Well. If his phone is already in his hand and Magnus’s texts are already right there…

It’s not like there’s any reason _not_ to read them again. His eyes just happen to trail down to the bottom of the screen, and that’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to read Magnus’s last text again. Magnus always sends the last text of the night, and it’s always something nice-

Oh. Right. Except this time. This time, it’s:

_Alexander, put down your phone and GO TO SLEEP!!!_

And an emoji that Alec would describe as ‘exasperated’.

He laughs, though it’s just a breathy shake of his shoulders with no real sound.

The text is preceded by a lengthy and heated conversation where Alec tried to make Magnus understand that there’s no chance he’s going to fall asleep, so he might as well stay up and keep talking. And Magnus had just argued back with all this _logical_ crap about how it’s one in the morning and how Alec definitely can’t fall asleep if he’s texting instead of ' _actually TRYING to sleep, for fuck’s sake Alec!!_ ’

Alec laughs again as he rereads that text. Magnus swears a lot more when he texts than when he talks. And he always uses really _specific_ emojis, and he uses a bunch of them when he can’t find one that’s specific enough. And Alec knows he uses all sorts of chat-speak things when he texts other people (especially Raphael, for some reason? Alec accidentally saw their text thread once when he picked up Magnus’s phone and it was _incomprehensible_ ), but he always spells everything out when he texts Alec. And he always texts Alec last. Alec texts him first in the morning, Magnus texts him last at night.

Alec smiles. It’s…

By the Angel.

It’s dumb.

It’s dumb, it’s _dumb,_ it’s _so fucking dumb._ He’s Alexander Lightwood and he’s a goddamn Shadowhunter and he practically runs this fucking Institute and he’s an _adult_ and his face is still mostly covered by his pillow and he’s smiling into his mattress because he’s reading goddamn _text messages._

What the fuck is wrong with him?

Magnus was right. Alec needs to put away his goddamn phone and forget about whatever the fuck is going on with his stomach and his heart right now and he’ll just go to sleep and everything will be normal. He won’t be getting all sappy over a few fucking texts.

Not even the really nice ones.

Not even the ones Magnus had sent throughout the day in case Alec got bored while he was on patrol.

Or the one where he’d _first_ tried to say goodnight tonight. The one with all the different colored heart emojis.

Or the one-

From last night. The one he’d sent after Alec left the loft, the one waiting on Alec’s phone when he got back to the Institute. The one he’d sent right after their fourth date.

_I had a wonderful time tonight, darling. I hope it was just as wonderful for you._

He hadn’t phrased it that way after the other dates. Yeah, he always makes a point of telling Alec that he’d had a good time (which is enough to bring back those goddamn fucking butterflies), but last night was the first time he’d snuck in that little… check. He didn’t outright _ask_ if Alec was- if Alec had enjoyed it. But he kinda… left it out there. The sort-of question. It was clear that he wanted to know if Alec enjoyed their date, that he wanted actual reassurance. He’d never done that before. Because on this particular date…

Alec swallows.

On this date, something new had happened. That hadn’t happened on the previous three. Or any other time in Alec’s life.

Alec’s heart is pounding, which is dumb and stupid and ridiculous and all the other words he’s been using to describe himself since he started dating Magnus.

The beginning and middle parts of the date weren’t different. They’d gone out to dinner (this time it was an _amazing_ Vietnamese place, probably Alec’s favorite restaurant so far), they’d sat and talked for over an hour after the food was gone, Alec had weakly protested as Magnus paid the check (even though they both know that there’s no way a Shadowhunter can afford dinner and drinks for two at the type of places Magnus picks for them), and they’d taken the _very_ long way on the walk back to Magnus’s, even though it was drizzling a bit.

Even after they’d made it back to the loft, things had - Alec feels a shiver shoot up his spine - things had gone… as they usually do.

And how fucking unbelievable is that? That after two and a half weeks with Magnus, it’s already _normal,_ it’s already an expectation and not a surprise for a date to end with them… holy shit. With them in Magnus’s bed. Together.

Somehow, Alec’s life has encountered a plot twist big enough that he can actually _expect_ to end up in bed with Magnus Bane. Half-dressed, out of breath, kissing for what feels like _hours…_

That’s just… how their dates go. How all their dates have gone.

And every time, Alec has found a point where it felt natural to pull back, stop things before they could go any further-

Except…

Date number four.

Alec takes a deep breath, and it shakes a bit in his lungs. He’s still looking at his phone, even though the screen’s dimmed. His thin sheet suddenly feels as oppressive as a wool blanket.

It still started the same. Alec and Magnus, on Magnus’s bed. Most of the pillows shoved to the floor. _Both_ of their shirts abandoned somewhere between there and the front door (and Alec’s mouth dries right up just at the _memory_ of Magnus’s bare chest, his smooth skin, his abs, the flat spot where Alec had expected a belly button and found none, the way his pants had started to slip further and further down his hips…).

Magnus had been lying between Alec’s legs, just like he’d done before. And Alec had been almost painfully hard in his jeans, just like he’d been before. And he’d been desperately trying to ignore it, just like he’d done before.

And then, for no apparent reason, things had _abruptly_ changed.

Because all of a sudden, even though nothing new was happening, it had been too much. Nothing was different, but this time, Alec couldn’t handle it. And he’d had to frantically nudge Magnus away, tell him to stop. He’d actually had to _tell_ Magnus that it was too good, that he felt too unbearably good, and if they didn’t stop, Alec was going to come in his pants.

Well, obviously Alec hadn’t been able to say it like _that._ He’d just said “Stop- I’m gonna…” and made a string of inarticulate and embarrassing noises.

But Magnus had just pulled away from him. Stopped, like Alec had asked him to. He’d moved so he was next to Alec instead of on top of him. He put a couple of inches of mattress between them, so Alec felt like he could breathe again.

And he’d looked at him. Lying on his side, propped up on one elbow. Magnus had just… looked at him, with a serious, genuine expression. And he’d asked, “Do you want to?”

Like it was easy. Like it was that easy.

And… it was.

Alec doesn’t really know what he was expecting. Why he’d thought that somehow just wasn’t an option. He’s aware that he had a spectacularly sheltered upbringing, but somehow he’d still managed to get a hell of a lot of ideas about what relationships are supposed to be like. What intimacy is supposed to be like. He’s not quite sure when he’d actually learned anything about sex, but in everything that’s somehow been absorbed into his mind, he’s always known that coming in his pants during a make-out session is _not_ allowed. It’s embarrassing, and immature, and rude to the other person. Like some sort of insult. Alec’s been convinced this whole time, possibly his whole life, that if he was ever going to have an orgasm with another person, the _only_ acceptable situation was actual, legitimate sex. Nothing else. Anything else would be inappropriate. Wrong.

And then Magnus had just… offered.

He’d taken out all the complications. He’d completely side-stepped the fact that Alec is not _at all_ ready to have sex yet. Alec’s not even ready to let Magnus see him naked, how could he possibly handle… everything else? And he’d been so sure that if he wasn’t ready for _everything,_ he wasn’t allowed to have… anything. He didn’t think he was allowed…

He didn’t think he was allowed to have any of this.

He’s never thought- It’s never been a possibility for him. Even just as a nice, distant hope. He never thought he’d be allowed to feel… that. With someone.

And Magnus just asked. “Do you want to?” That was it. That’s all it took.

Alec was allowed to feel good.

It hadn’t taken much, once Alec had been able to get his body to cooperate enough to nod. He really had held out as long as he possibly could before stopping Magnus, and even once Magnus had stopped touching him entirely, he’d still felt ready to go off at any second.

But even knowing that it was okay, that it was going to happen and it was _okay_ that it was going to happen, Alec had frozen. They’d jumped so suddenly from familiar territory to something so incomprehensibly _new_ and Alec didn’t know how to handle it.

Of course, Magnus hadn’t had the same problem. He’d gone right back to where they’d left off, pulling Alec in and kissing him with just as much intensity… and maybe even a bit _more_ enthusiasm than before.

That had been enough to kick-start everything in Alec that had shut down. He’d pulled Magnus back on top of him, tugged at Magnus’s arms until he’d gotten the idea and pinned Alec’s hands above his head, using every inch of himself to press Alec into the mattress, and in what had felt like no more than handful of seconds, Alec had…

Alec shivers. Which makes no goddamn sense, since it feels like his body is burning about a thousand degrees hotter than it should be. He finally abandons the pretense of looking at his phone and tosses it back onto the nightstand (even though he knows he should be a bit more gentle with it). It’s getting difficult to breathe, so he shoves the pillow off of his face. He’s restless again. Everything’s gone back to being jittery. He rolls over onto his stomach, resting his head on his folded arms - because he feels like he won’t be able to breathe if he so much as touches that pillow again.

He’d… With Magnus right there, with Magnus right on top of him. Magnus holding him down, and mouthing at his jaw, and thrusting and grinding their hips together, until Alec’s eyes squeezed shut and his mouth fell open and he’d-

He’d felt the best thing he’s ever felt in his entire damn life.

It’s not like it was the first time he’d ever had an orgasm. He knew the… basic idea. He wouldn’t exactly call it a familiarity, but it was at least an awareness. He hasn’t gotten off many times, but he knew what he was getting into.

Or so he’d thought.

By the Angel.

Alec was in _no way_ prepared for how this had felt. Hell, there were a few seconds in there where he’d seriously considered the possibility that he was dying. He couldn’t breathe, and he couldn't tell if his heart was racing, or not beating at all.

It was just… so much. It had never been like that with himself. That’s always fast and perfunctory and not particularly pleasant. This was… he doesn’t even have words for it.

Alec can feel something course through his body, fast like a shiver, but _warm._ It starts in his chest and shoots out through his limbs. His fingers dig into the sheet beneath him until they’ve tightened into a fist. And his other hand is gripping his elbow so tight it’s almost painful. He shifts his face against the pillow of his arms, and he can feel that his cheek is burning.

It’s too late at night for this. Or it’s too early in the morning. Either way, this is _not_ the correct train of thought to make him fall asleep. He’d promised Magnus when he said goodnight that he was really going to try to rest (though he’d been sure to point out the hypocrisy of the situation, since Magnus is making some sort of shape-shifting potion for a client and they both know that he’ll be working on it until morning without stopping for ‘trivial’ things like sleeping or eating). And there’s no fucking chance that Alec will be able to sleep if he gets distracted by memories of Magnus’s body on his, feeling the heat of skin against skin where their naked chests had touched, thrusting up desperately as Magnus pressed down, every cell in his body tensing until he thought he might shatter into a million pieces. His mouth was open when he came, and he still has no idea what sort of sounds he’d made. Maybe he said Magnus’s name. Maybe he was swearing. Maybe it was just a broken string of gibberish - that’s certainly more on-brand for him. He probably stuttered a few times.

When it happened, he didn’t have the chance to realize that he should be embarrassed until he’d calmed down. All of his nerves felt bright and too sensitive, the sweat on his skin suddenly cold, the mess of come in his boxers already getting uncomfortable. And he’d wanted to be embarrassed. He really had. It seemed like the appropriate thing to be. But before he could accurately grasp the shame he’d wanted to feel, he’d realized that Magnus-

Fuck. Shit fuck, _fuck._

Magnus was still moving against him. Hips still grinding. His face pressed firmly against Alec’s sweaty cheek. His hands still holding Alec’s wrists and pinning them above his head, his grip tight, like Alec couldn’t break it even if he’d wanted to. Magnus had just kept rutting against Alec, making these little, breathy noises that just got littler and breathier as his hips sped up-

Until he’d stopped. And gasped. A sharp, loud inhale. And then a slow, shaky exhale, hot on Alec’s jaw.

Because…

Alec’s throat makes a weird noise without him wanting it to. He swallows to keep it from happening again, and that just makes him realize that his mouth is painfully dry. His heart is still speeding up and his skin is still burning and he’s starting to realize that he’s moving. He’s… shifting.

By the Angel, he’s grinding against the goddamn mattress. He doesn’t want to be, because it’s stupid, and it’s childish, and it’s impulsive and he’s goddamn _better_ than this. But somehow he’s starting to get hard in his boxers and it’s not like it’s _helping_ that all he can think about is how he’d felt better last night than he thought he’d ever be able to feel, and even if it was an embarrassing and _stupid_ situation and even if he’d come in his pants like a fucking teenager…

Magnus had done the same thing.

It’s like there are coals in Alec’s gut, radiating heat up into his chest. The butterflies are back, but their wings burn.

Magnus had done the same thing. Right there. With him. With Alec. He’d come in his pants, like a teenager. He’d… he’d gotten off. He’d had an orgasm.

When he was with _Alec._

Everything that Alec had felt - the heat, and the tension, and the moment when it all snapped, and the release, and everything that was so _good…_ Magnus had felt it too.

Alec makes another noise, muffled into his arm, and it sounds small and pathetic. But he just can’t- he can’t even process that. The idea that there’s _any_ way that Alec could make Magnus feel as good as Magnus makes him feel.

It doesn’t make any sense.

It makes perfect sense for someone like Alec to get off just from some kissing and whatever friction he can get through multiple layers of clothing. Because why the fuck not? It’s more than anything he’s had before. It’s new. Alec is so stupidly inexperienced that the slightest bit of intimacy is completely unfamiliar.

But this is _Magnus._ Magnus, with all his grace and elegance and experience, _centuries_ of experience. Nothing about this is new for him. This is… old. This is boring. No, Alec doesn’t really know Magnus’s history, but he’s pretty damn sure that a little bit of kissing should be a non-event for him.

And it’s not just that it was kissing. It was kissing Alec. That probably lowers it from a ‘non-event’ to a _chore,_ since Alec still has no idea what he’s doing and he just lies there and tries to figure out what he can possibly do, how he could possibly please Magnus, how he could possibly make Magnus feel good because he deserves that, Magnus deserves to feel so good, _so_ good-

And there’s no way Alec should be able to do that for him. Alec shouldn’t be enough. He can’t. He knows he’s not enough.

But somehow…

Alec can still feel Magnus’s touch, less like a memory and more like a ghost. He can feel the breath that he’d sighed onto Alec’s jaw and neck. He can feel how his hands had tightened on Alec’s wrists, squeezing for one last moment before going slack. The way his whole body had gone limp, lying like a deadweight on Alec’s chest. And he’d laughed quietly, his mouth brushing Alec’s cheek. He’d sounded so tired and… satisfied. Happy.

Something spasms in Alec’s stomach, and before he can think any better and _stop_ himself, he worms one hand between his hips and the mattress. And while his brain is yelling at him to show some goddamn self-control, his hand presses against his crotch, because somehow his dick has gotten so hard that it’s getting seriously uncomfortable.

Which is just… fuck.

Which is the bad-luck cherry on top of his bad-luck sundae of a night.

Honestly, it’s not like the universe wasn’t being enough of an asshat already. It’s not like he needed _another_ goddamn nuisance to really feel like the whole world is shitting on him.

Why now? Of all the inconvenient times to get a boner, why _this_ one? When he just wants to get some sleep. When he’s already annoyed at everything else in his life. And, of course, when he’s got a goddamn stamina rune leftover from his thirteen-hour patrol. It should have worn off by now, but he can still feel that little… buzz in his veins. Like an itch, but buried all the way in his blood, so he can’t scratch it. It’s why he hasn’t been able to fall asleep. He’s still buzzing with unnaturally fabricated energy even though his body is so fucking exhausted he just wants to die.

And now, he has a boner. While he has a stamina rune. Which means it’s not gonna fucking go away on its own (which is Alec’s usual way of dealing with boners - or _not_ dealing with them). It’s gonna stay right where it is. Until Alec is forced to… _do_ something about it.

Stupid goddamn fucking stupid _idiot_ stamina runes. Totally fucking worthless.

Because now Alec is shoving the palm of his hand against his dick, and the weird twist it gives his gut is just the final proof that he has no choice. If he wants to make this go away, he has to take care of it himself.

Fuck.

Alec hates doing this.

He always has. By the Angel, he’d never been much of a fan of getting erections in the first place, but once he’d started realizing what happens when you mix accidental hard-ons with accidental stamina runes, it had become his least favorite thing in the entire goddamn universe. And he’s tried to avoid it. Multiple times. Once, when he was seventeen, he’d stubbornly _refused_ to do anything, and waited for the rune to wear off and his dick to get back in line. He’d made it until sunrise before he finally gave in and took care of it just so he could get an hour of sleep before morning training.

Alec grits his teeth and presses a little harder against his dick. He hates this. He hates doing this and he hates _needing_ to do this and he hates his body for doing this to him and he hates everything that’s ever existed. He just wants some sleep for fuck’s sake.

He doesn’t understand why anyone _likes_ this. Hell, he’s not entirely convinced than anyone really does. It’s not like he’s ever heard someone say ‘you know, I actually find masturbation to be an enjoyable and worthwhile use of my time’. He’s only ever heard it talked about as a joke. It’s a joke. No, not even that - it’s a punchline. For when someone isn’t having sex. That’s the joke. Someone who doesn’t have sex is a joke, and masturbation is the punchline.

But even though it’s been made so abundantly clear to Alec that masturbating is something to mock people for, that it’s dirty and embarrassing and shameful… for some reason, he also knows that it’s still _expected_ of him.

He’s not supposed to masturbate because it’s pathetic. But he’s expected to masturbate because he has a dick.

It’s a fucking trap, is what it is. Because he hates doing this. He really fucking hates it. But he has a dick so everyone is just going to assume he's doing it anyway. A perfect way to add insult to injury. Everyone’s probably mocking him because they assume he’s doing this thing that he doesn’t want to do anyway.

Nights like this, he wonders how bad it would really be to chop his dick off with a seraph blade and be done with it.

The sooner he starts, the sooner he’ll be done. That’s something. That’s all he’s got right now. So he lifts up his hips just far enough to shove his hand into his boxers. It’s a weird position, lying on his stomach, head pillowed on one arm, wrist bent at a highly unnatural angle where it’s smushed between his dick and the mattress. It’s hardly ideal. Then again, _nothing_ about this situation is ideal, so. He might as well lean into it.

He manages to maneuver his hand so it’s wrapped around his dick.

He hates this.

He tightens his grip, squeezing a bit, trying to figure out what will get this over with as quickly as possible.

He _hates_ doing this.

He’s always hated it. Because it’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair how difficult it is to keep himself under control like this. No matter how hard he tries to stop himself, as soon as he touches himself, it’s like his brain goes on autopilot, and he can fight it as hard as he wants, but it always takes over and goes somewhere else. When he feels the heat in his dick start to seep up into his gut and twist his stomach into knots, he always _tries_ to stay focused, to just think about what’s happening and nothing else, but it’s like he doesn’t have a choice.

It always starts simple. Something easy and nice, like imagining what it might feel like to have someone close to him. To feel body heat, on the bed, next to him. Maybe what fingers would feel like if they touched his cheek, or brushed the hair back from his forehead. And then it’s something else nice, like what a pair of lips would feel like against his. Nothing bad. They aren’t anyone’s lips, they’re just the idea. And then, while the lips were still against his, maybe the fingers stroking his cheek would turn into a hand, cupping his jaw and touching behind his ear and trailing up into his hair-

But then the image would become too clear, and it would be a man’s hand, and Alec would feel the wrongness like a kick in the chest. And he’d try to stop, to think about something else, something else formless and innocent, like hot breath against his throat, or maybe at his ear, and maybe it would turn into a pleasured little laugh-

But then it would be Jace’s laugh.

Alec is hit with so much disgust for himself that his throat closes up. He tries to choke out a noise against his arm… but he can’t breathe. He feels sick. He feels so sickened by himself and even though he knows he’s not really thinking about this now - because he’s done with that, he’s done with that, he’s _done with that_ \- the memories are bad enough that he has to pull his hand out of his boxers. He curls up on his side, curls into himself, like if he tries hard enough, he might be able to smother himself, curl up into a ball small enough to disappear completely.

He hates doing this.

He’s always hated it.

Because it’s too easy. It’s too easy to forget himself and forget who he is and forget who he has to be and let himself… imagine.

And every time he’s done this, at some point, he’s imagined Jace. His smile, his eyes, his laugh - not his laugh when he’s teasing Alec, but the _real_ one, the one he does when he’s excited about something. And sometimes, Alec would imagine his hands. Or his lips-

It’s disgusting. It’s fucking disgusting and so unbelievably _wrong_ to let himself think like that. To think about Jace like that. To… to _use_ Jace like that. His parabatai. His _brother._ It’s bad enough for Alec to have thoughts like this in the first place, but to direct them at Jace is just…

So he’d always tried. Alec’s always tried to not think about Jace. He’s always tried to keep everything as vague as possible. The times when he absolutely has to touch himself like this, he always tries his best to not imagine anyone at all.

But even _that_ never worked. Because no matter how vague he kept his imagination, it always happened. The hands touching him would get bigger. Calloused. The body against his would sharpen into focus and there would be broad shoulders, a flat, strong chest, legs as long as his own, a hard cock to press against his-

And he can’t have that, and he _knows_ he can’t have that, he knows it’s not allowed - but when he does this he can’t help himself. After over a decade of practice, he’s gotten so used to keeping these thoughts away. Ninety-nine percent of the time, he doesn’t have to think about any of it. But the second this starts, the second he has to do _this_ to himself, it becomes impossible to keep it out of his head. Whether it’s Jace or just a blurry, faceless phantom… it’s always a man.

He can’t have that. He knows. And it’s so much harder to deal with it when he indulges himself like this. It’s so much harder to wake up and deny himself everything when he’d let himself… pretend. He can’t. He can’t have that. He can’t know what it’s like to be with someone like that. To feel another body there with him, to feel breath on his neck and heat building inside him and a cock grinding against his own, he can’t have it, he’s not allowed-

Except…

Alec’s mouth opens. It’s like we wants to gasp, but he can’t make his lungs take in any air.

Because that’s…

That’s not true. Anymore.

He is allowed. He’s allowed to have all of that, and not only _can_ he have it… he does.

His breath comes back to him in a rush.

This isn’t the first time he’s been run over by this particular train of thought. Because, shockingly, it turns out that three weeks isn’t quite long enough to magically undo a lifetime spent hiding this part of himself. The bandaid’s been ripped off, and all of that is done, it’s all out there now, and _he’s_ ‘out’ now (though he still hasn’t adjusted to using that term for himself), but it’s only been three weeks.

Three weeks, after more than a decade.He doesn’t even know exactly how long it’s been since he figured this out about himself, but he was a kid. He was young enough that this is all he remembers. This is the only way he knows how to… be.

And after _years_ spent policing his every thought and action and squashing every flicker of interest or hope… he’s supposed to just, what, be _fine_ now? He’s supposed to suddenly accept this thing that he’s been fighting his entire life, like it’s no big deal, just because it’s not a secret anymore?

Yes. He knows the answer to that is obviously ‘yes’. But it’s not like _knowing_ that means all of his paranoia and fear and self-hatred is just gonna… dissolve. He knows better, he really does. But this has been programmed into him for too long, and now it’s just a reflex. Hating himself for who he is - it’s second nature. It’s the reason why he still doesn’t feel completely comfortable with any of this once he has too much time to really think about it. It’s the reason…

It’s the reason why he still gets nervous when someone mentions Magnus’s name at the Institute. Why he feels like he needs to keep himself impassive, keep himself in check, so they won’t be able to look at him and _know._ Even though they do. Everyone knows now.

It’s the reason why he’s afraid to come home after a date. Because he won’t be able to hide where he was, or what he was doing. He doesn’t _have_ to hide anymore, but he still desperately looks for an excuse, something important he could say he'd been doing. Like he needs something more important than going on a date and being _happy_ for once.

It’s the… It’s the reason why, when he’d helped Magnus wrestle his complicated silk shirt off over his head on their third date, and he’d seen Magnus’s bare chest for the first time… Alec had felt a cold stab of guilt. For wanting to see a man half-dressed.

Guilt. Because he saw his _own boyfriend_ shirtless, and wanted him.

It doesn’t bother him like this when he’s actually with Magnus. It hits later. When he’s home, and he’s alone, and he has time to think about what’s happened. It’s easy to forget about all of this when Magnus is right there, kissing him, whispering filthy things into his ear, pinning him to the bed, thrusting against him, making him come-

Alec shivers, and he feels it primarily in his dick - which is still desperately hard and not going to get any softer anytime soon.

He can hear Magnus’s voice, on an endless loop in his mind.

“Do you want to?”

Over and over again. Asked with so much sincerity, and gentleness, and… maybe… desire. Magnus had wanted it. Magnus had wanted them to keep going, wanted them to get off with each other-

And it had been easy.

It had been so unbearably easy. Easy to get that far, easy for Alec to stop him when he was uncomfortable, easy for Magnus to ask the question, easy for Alec to answer it, easy for him to feel so fucking good…

It’s all so easy with Magnus. Everything is easy.

And nothing has ever been easy for Alec. It’s like every fucking detail of his life is a struggle, and always has been. His job, his family, his feelings, _everything_ about who he is has been so difficult, and now Magnus is here and it’s _easy_ and godfuckingdammit Alec doesn’t think he should have to deny himself that. Something is _finally_ easy for him, something is good, something is nice, and even if it’s selfish of him… he wants that. He wants to feel good. He wants it to be easy to feel good.

“Do you want to?”

Alec slips his hand back into his boxers.

As he wraps his fingers around his dick, and feels that first spark of friction, the images come back. Vague, disembodied touches. Lips, fingers, a warm hand, breath on his neck, a laugh…

Magnus’s laugh. The sleepy, blissful little laugh he’d let out right after his orgasm. Happy, and pleasured, and easy.

Alec sighs brokenly against his arm. He imagines the heat against his skin is from Magnus’s mouth and not his own, imagines what that might be like-

But he doesn’t have to. He knows. He knows exactly what that feels like. He knows what it feels like to have his boyfriend lie in bed with him and kiss him and touch him and make him come. He knows how that feels.

And he can have it.

He’s allowed to have it.

Alec has to bite down on his forearm to keep himself from making an undignified noise. And that’s… new. Normally, when he has to do this, noise isn’t an issue. He’s always silent, without even trying. Maybe a tiny little grunt here or there, but nothing that could be overheard. The rooms in this hallway are fairly large, with thick walls. He’s never had to worry about someone hearing him.

But now he’s remembering how loud he’s been with Magnus, how he doesn’t even know what all had made its way out of his mouth last night. And right now, he’s _barely_ started touching himself and it’s already enough to make him whimper into the sheets. This could be a problem.

There are precautions he could take, runes he could use… but somehow, the idea of having to _stop_ touching himself sounds like outright torture.

Because this is… different.

This isn’t a chore, an unfair ‘fuck you’ from his body, a test of his restraint and his self-hatred. This is…

His hand starts moving a little faster. And as it does, he remembers the first time he’d gotten hard while he was kissing Magnus. Their first date. Squished together on the couch, Alec on top, his veins burning with the actual sparks of magic that kept seeping into his skin where Magnus’s fingers touched him.

His dick twitches in his hand, and it feels incredible.

And he’s allowed to feel it.

His throat is working too hard. His lungs are burning. He’s not getting enough air like this. He flips over onto his back, and his legs instantly fall open, like he’s _begging_ for Magnus to suddenly portal into the room and lie between them. He wonders…

He wonders what it would be like if Magnus were really here. Already shirtless, already with that fine sheen of sweat on his back as Alec trails his fingers down his spine-

Alec stops himself. His hand, his brain, all of it shuts down. Like an uncontrollable reflex.

But…

 _Fuck_ that.

Magnus isn’t some forbidden fruit, some dirty fantasy, some distant temptation without thoughts or agency of his own. Magnus is a person, real, and tangible, who has his own desires and makes his own decisions.

And somehow… he’s decided that he wants Alec.

Alec is Magnus’s boyfriend. They’ve done this. They’ve been together like this. Well, not _exactly_ like this, but with the same eventual outcome. And Alec doesn’t think… He doesn’t think Magnus would mind that Alec is doing this. Thinking about him, while he does… _this._ It’s not like he’s using Magnus inappropriately. He’s just remembering things that have already actually happened. And yeah, Alec will probably feel strange enough about doing this that he’ll end up confessing the whole thing to Magnus within a day or two. But when that happens… he doesn’t think Magnus will be upset. About Alec, jerking off to… him.

He doesn’t think Magnus will mind that Alec is remembering the feel of Magnus’s chest, his stomach, the way his hips fit so perfectly into Alec’s palms.

His grip is too dry. Without thinking, he pulls his hand out of his boxers and licks a wide, wet stripe all the way up to his fingertips before shoving it back down. The way his hand _slides_ along his cock with an obscene _squelch_  makes his legs tense against the mattress. It’s so good. Because it’s not just him. It’s him and Magnus, the memory of how good it had felt to be with him, and how good it feels right now, and he’s allowed to have it, he’s allowed to feel this good.

His other hand flies up above his head and grips the pillow so hard he’s afraid he might tear the case right open. But it’s not enough. He doesn’t even know what he wants it to be, but he knows it’s not enough. He presses his arm against the mattress as hard as he can, twisting his wrist like he’s… testing something. Like he’s-

By the Angel. Like he’s being held down. Like Magnus is pinning his wrists above his head and holding him there so tightly that he can’t escape. Like he can’t break free. Like he can’t move. Like he can’t do anything. Helpless. Useless.

Harmless.

Alec bites the inside of his cheek to suppress a cry, but it still squeaks in his throat. Because that’s what it is. That’s what all of this is, why he loves it so much, why he’s loved it since the first time Magnus had gently pushed him back against the couch cushions and pressed him down. He’s never felt pleasure like this before he met Magnus. He’s never _really_ felt pleasure run through him, never really known how he reacts to it.

But he knows now. He knows that it makes him feel completely _powerless._ All of his limbs basically numb, limp under Magnus’s touch. His head spinning so much that he can’t think about anything. His muscles lax, unused… safe. He feels so safe with Magnus. Like he’s weak, and he’s allowed to be weak, and it’s _good_ that he’s weak. He doesn’t have to be strong. Doesn’t have to be dangerous. Couldn’t hurt anyone even if he tried. He feels completely harmless when he’s with Magnus like this, and it’s…

It’s incredible. He didn’t know he could feel like that. Weak, and harmless, and powerless, like his body is just a limp _thing_ that he uses to feel pleasure. He’s not a weapon like this. He’s just pleasure. It’s all he can feel.

He can have this. He can have this with Magnus, again and again. This - and more, even.

And he wants that. Until three weeks ago, he didn’t know he wanted _any_ of this. But now, he wants more. He wants it to be Magnus’s cock in his hand, to be touching him instead of himself. If Magnus had sounded so beautiful - like he felt so _good -_ when he was just rutting up against Alec, how much better would it be if-

Alec swallows another sound that might have been a sob. Because this feels amazing. His hand is dry again, and he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing, and it _still_ feels amazing.

And if he can do this to himself… he can do it to Magnus. Fuck, he wants to do this for Magnus. But better, so much better than this. He wants to take all night, spend _hours_ building up to it, use good lube so his hand never gets too dry, and do everything he can to make it better, ask Magnus how it feels, how he can change it, how to make him feel as good as possible. He wants to know what Magnus would sound like if he came in Alec’s hand instead of in his pants. He wants to see what Magnus’s face looks like when he has an orgasm. He wants to strip off Magnus’s shirt again and not stop there this time. He wants it all off. He wants to see Magnus naked, feel _all_ of his skin and how hot it gets when it’s sparking with magic and covered in sweat. He wants to know what Magnus’s cock looks like, how it feels in his hand, how different it would feel than his own. He wants all of it, he wants all the things he’s never let himself want before because he knows he can have them, he’s allowed to have them, because Magnus wants them too. Magnus wants him. Magnus Bane, so beautiful, so elegant, so wonderful, so _nice…_ He wants Alec.

“Do you want to?”

Alec comes so suddenly that it’s almost startling. He grits his teeth and presses his head back into the pillow as hard as he can, fighting the surge inside him that wants him to _shout_ into the empty room. He can hear himself whine through his tense throat, but he manages to keep it quiet.

It’s so different. It’s not like any other orgasm he’s had. It’s so much _better_ than any other time he’s done this to himself, but still nowhere near as good as when it had happened with Magnus. Because this is so concentrated - it’s such an intense amount of feeling all contained right to his cock. It’s bright, and sharp, and almost _painfully_ strong. It’s so strong that he has to fist his other hand into his hair and tug hard, just to try and relieve some of the sensation in his cock.

But that’s all it is. The rest of him is cold, and exposed, and ignored. With Magnus, it had been everything. Every part of his body was feeling something, kisses or contact or heat. This feels so good, it feels incredible, but it just makes him miss Magnus. Makes him want Magnus there even more than before…

He doesn’t realize that his hand is still moving on his dick until it the friction starts to feel _horrible._ It’s like being tickled and electrocuted at the same time. He feels frazzled. He’s even more exhausted than he was before, but he’s also… wide awake. He’s gasping, struggling for breath, and he can literally feel his heartbeat pounding all the way down in his toes.

Fuck.

Just… _fuck._

He wants to hold on to this feeling, the heat in his gut, his pounding heart, the uneven flip-flop running from his stomach to his chest-

But it fades so quickly. Last night, it had all been drawn out, because Magnus was still…

Alec whimpers.

Last night, after he’d come, Magnus was still working toward his own orgasm. And that was enough to make Alec’s feel like it was still going, minute after minute, once the _shock_ of the situation had worn off. The sweat on his skin wasn’t able to cool, because Magnus was too hot. The heat in his gut didn’t get to dissipate, because he could feel little bursts of magic, everywhere Magnus was touching him, getting stronger and hotter as Magnus got closer-

Another shiver runs through Alec’s whole body, strong enough to make his teeth chatter. His hand is still in his boxers, cold, and trembling a little, and unpleasantly sticky-

Oh, right. He’s not with Magnus this time.

Which means there isn’t someone here who can say “Allow me,” and magic away all of the mess with just a silly little wiggle of his fingers (which Alec still thinks he just did to make him laugh; there’s no way it was actually necessary to make his magic work).

Alec’s alone, and now that it’s over, he’s _painfully_ aware that he’s alone. His whole body is cold, the sweat on his skin feeling more like tiny icicles than perspiration. It’s like he’s actually _itching_ with the need to have Magnus in bed with him. He wants his warmth, he wants to be able to wrap around him, fold Magnus up in all of his limbs and just… hold him for a while. Possibly all night.

But instead, he has to deal with this cold, sticky, disgusting mess in his boxers.

Normally, when he has to do this, he’ll get a tissue or a wad of toilet paper or _something_ beforehand so he can come right into that and be cleaned up before he could even make a mess. But this time, he’d been too… yeah. He’d been too caught up in pleasure to be able to think that clearly. So now there’s something gross all over his fingers and soaking into the fabric of his boxers and probably at least a drop or two on his t-shirt as well because that’s just his luck, isn’t it?

It takes a few more moments of deep, steady breaths before he feels like he can crack his eyes open. It’s weird. It’s almost like he was… somewhere else, and now he’s coming back here again. Like after what just happened, he shouldn’t just be in his room. His own, boring, usual room. It doesn’t match up.

Once his eyes focus in the darkness, he glances down. He doesn’t really know _why,_ because it’s not like he can really see anything. It’s spread out, and mostly soaked in by now. It’s not like there’s a neon sign pointing right at the semen on his clothes. And it’s not like anyone’s actually going to see him before he gets up in the morning, and showers, and puts on clean clothes. He could technically sleep in these dirty clothes and be perfectly fine.

But he won’t, of course, because that’s fucking disgusting.

He pulls his hand out of his boxers, carefully avoiding his dick (which is finally, _mercifully_ soft again, stamina rune be damned) since it’s still so sensitive that even the brush of his boxers against it feels weird. From the feel of it, it seems like most of the mess ended up inside his boxers. They’re loose enough that he didn’t ever really need to take his dick out of them. There’s a massive wet spot, like he expected, and a tiny splotch at the bottom of his shirt.

So, yeah. He’s gonna have to get up and change. And stick these clothes in the bottom of his hamper, so no one could possibly see them before he does laundry. And he’ll have to wash his hand too. Then he can finally get some sleep. He just has to wash his hand…

His hand…

It’s resting against his hip, outside his clothes. And Alec realizes that he’s… His fingers are moving a bit. Running back and forth against each other. A slow, uneven movement, since they’re so sticky. It’s like he’s… _trying_ to feel the mess on his skin.

But that doesn’t make any sense. There’s no reason why he would want to…

Because it’s gross. It’s a mess. It’s not supposed to be on his skin like this. It’s semen.

So he’s gonna go clean it off. Obviously. He’s gonna stop… touching it like this. Obviously.

It’s just…

It’s kinda weird. It’s such a _tangible_ thing. It’s this actual, physical… proof. Like a reminder, of what just happened. Of how good he felt. Coming had felt so incredible, and the actual  _come_ is part of that, so maybe it should be-

But that’s fucked up. It’s gross. It’s a goddamn bodily fluid. And he’s still touching it on his skin like it’s somehow a _good_ thing, which is disgusting. His hand is sticky and gross and this is so messed up it’s so _fucking_ messed up that it doesn’t feel gross at all and his stomach is churning with those molten butterflies again and it’s actually kinda…

Nice. To feel come on his skin.

What-

What the _fuck?_

Alec wipes his hand on his shirt, as thoroughly as possible. Because that’s too fucked up. That’s where he draws the fucking line. It’s one thing to jerk off to the memory of coming in his pants like some pathetic teenager, it’s one thing to think about Magnus so inappropriately like he’s completely disrespecting him. That’s all bad enough.

It’s something else _entirely_ to lie here and feel some sort of fucked up _desire_ for feeling his own semen on his hand.

That’s a line he’s not gonna let himself cross.

Way too fucked up.

This was… This was all too much. It was just a weird night. It was the stressful evening and the goddamn stamina rune leaving him no choice, but now it’s all over and he’s gonna clean himself up and go to sleep and forget all about it.

Forget about… how good he’d felt. How good he’d been able to make himself feel.

How he’s allowed to feel so good.

But, yeah. It’s nothing. Nothing he needs to worry about. He just needs to get cleaned up. Not worry about anything that just happened. Not think about it. Just get some sleep. He’ll be fine in the morning.

Yeah. It was just a weird night.

Just a weird… nice night.

He rubs his fingers together. And the butterflies swarm in his stomach again. Warm. And nice.

Alec smiles.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, here's the really feelsy masturbation chapter no one asked for. People have pointed out the various references to Alec 'not having done "this" before' in previous chapters, and wanted to know more details about Alec's inexperience. And I guess my response to that was 10k of emotions about jerking off?
> 
> And because I apparently only work in extremes: the last chapter was just one long conversation, and this chapter didn't have a single word of spoken dialogue (except Alec's memories of words spoken the night before), so there's that.
> 
> Also, people have asked if I'm still accepting prompts, and this feels like the best place to say that YES! I am always accepting prompts! =)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fucking useless. It doesn’t fucking matter what his _justification was._ He’d still fucked it all up. Things have been going so nicely, for such a long time. He’s been so happy. He’s been happier than… he’s ever been. And now he’s fucked it all up. Fucking stupid. Not surprising, but still so fucking stupid…

Alec can’t move.

No, that can’t be right. He’s just waking up, so he probably hasn’t… gotten there yet. His brain is awake, but his limbs haven’t caught up. In a few seconds, once his body gets on board with being awake, he’ll be fine.

He takes a few deep breaths, feeling the grogginess start to lift from his head. Okay, should be all good now.

Nope.

No, he actually, literally, _definitely_ cannot move.

This can’t be good.

After a few moments of surprisingly intense struggle, he manages to crack his eyes open. And even though the room is dark, it’s enough to make his head _scream_ in protest. And-

Where is he? He’s not in his room. This isn’t his bed…

Oh. The silk canopy hanging over the massive four-poster bed. The dark, luxurious space. He’s in Magnus’s room. Magnus’s bed. Why is he here? How did he get here? He doesn’t remember coming over. When did he go to sleep last night?

He gets one sharp, vivid memory. On Magnus’s couch, in the middle of the night, trying to wrestle off his boots. Magnus kneeling down to help him. Magnus talking, saying the same things over and over, too quickly. Magnus wiping a smear of blood off of Alec’s cheek. Alec not being sure if it was his blood, or someone else’s. He hadn’t cleaned up after the mission-

Oh, right. The mission.

Well, that explains why he can’t move.

It’s dark in here. The door to the rest of the loft is open, and it’s dark, so it must still be nighttime. Alec glances around… but he’s alone. No one else is in the bed with him. Not Magnus, not even Chairman Meow (who’s slept at their feet every time Alec has spent the night here).

Something’s not adding up.

He needs to get out of bed. He sits up-

And it’s a mistake. It’s a big, _big_ mistake. He barely even makes it into a sitting position before the pain is too much. It’s not worth it, so he gives up. He leans back against the headboard, and his body is already so sore that it really doesn’t matter that there aren’t any pillows to cushion his back.

By this point in his life, Alec’s developed a pretty high threshold for pain. Which is what makes it so embarrassing when he actually _groans_ as he tries to reach the lamp on the nightstand. He doesn’t even make it. It’s not worth that much pain. He can just sit in the dark and be fine with it.

Fuck.

He’s fucked.

His pained whimper must have been louder than he thought, because he hears footsteps approach from somewhere out in the living room. And soon enough, Magnus appears in the doorway. And something’s-

Something’s wrong. Alec’s eyes aren’t working right.

Because the room is dark. There’s no light in the bedroom whatsoever. But Magnus is bright, like he’s bathed in sunshine. Fuck. Alec knows his sappy mind has made Magnus look like he has some sort of angelic glow before, but this is really next level.

“Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty.” Magnus’s voice is… weird. Kinda flat. He crosses his arms and leans his shoulder against the doorframe. Then he snaps, without untucking his fingers from the crook of his elbow.

And the bedroom _floods_ with sunlight.

“Ah, _fuck-”_ Alec grits out as his eyes squeeze shut. The sudden light makes his headache take a sharp downward turn from ‘irritating’ to ‘probably gonna kill him’.

But when he manages to blink enough to let his eyes adjust, he realizes that the illusion of Magnus standing in the sunlight was just… Magnus standing in the sunlight. Because Alec can see past him into the loft, and there’s definitely a bright, sunny view coming in through the living room windows. Which means-

Which means Magnus was keeping the light out of the bedroom. So Alec could sleep.

Fuck.

“Time s’it?” Alec garbles, and it feels like he’s swallowed a large quantity of sandpaper.

“A little after four.”

Alec feels a sickening jolt run through his body - which just makes everything ache even more. Because he needs to get up. He needs to get going. _Four?_ In the afternoon? He’s never slept this late in his life. He usually doesn’t sleep much later than his alarm, even on days when he can sleep in. He needs to get back the Institute. He has things he needed to do today, things he’s already missed. He… can’t quite remember what those things are… but he knows there’s a lot of them. He needs to get out of bed-

“Your parents know you’re here,” Magnus says calmly, like he knows what Alec is thinking (because he _always_ seems to know what Alec is thinking - how does he do that?). “You’ve been given _leave_ to stay here until tomorrow morning.” His voice sounds a little disdainful… but then, he’s talking about Maryse and Robert, so that’s… pretty understandable.

But then he moves in the doorway. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and his hands clench a little on his arms.

Shit.

Alec doesn’t know what’s happening, but he knows it’s not good. He’s seen this posture from Magnus before, but it’s never been directed at him. He struggles to remember more details about last night, hoping to figure out just how bad things are about to be for him.

Magnus takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly through his nose. It’s frighteningly similar to a bull about to go on a rampage. “They said that, given the _events_ of the mission last night, it’s probably ‘for the best’ that you stay here. To best aid your _recovery.”_

Shit. Fuck. It’s bad. Alec fucked up bad. Alec’s fucking _fucked._ He’s starting to remember how he got to the loft last night. How he’d left the Institute. The things he’d said that seemed so well-intentioned at the time, but he’s suddenly realizing were actually-

“You seem confused,” Magnus says in that same voice. That same, dangerous tone of voice that’s so controlled, so _deliberately_ calm. So terrifyingly calm. “Which certainly makes sense. I was confused as well. After all, why on earth would you need an entire day to recover when you’d _assured_ me, over and over, that you were perfectly fine?”

Alec’s stomach ties into such a sudden, tight knot that it feels like his insides are being sucked into a black hole. Fuck. _Fuck._ “Mags-”

“Admittedly, I wasn’t actually keeping count, but I’m fairly certain I asked at least a _dozen_ times if you were hurt at all.” His voice is getting lighter and lighter, like it would almost sound _playful_ if it weren’t for his severe expression. “And what did you tell me, every single time?”

“Magnus-”

“What did you say, Alec?”

Shit. ‘Alec.’ In _that_ tone.

This hasn’t happened before. Magnus gets frustrated, yeah. Why shouldn’t he? Alec’s an idiot; it must get difficult, having to deal with his stupidity for over three months now. But this is… new. A distinctly _bad_ type of new.

And Alec fucking deserves whatever happens, because he’s a fucking moron, and Magnus deserves to be fucking furious.

Alec takes a deep breath, and tries to ignore how much it makes his chest ache. “I said… I just had a few bruises.”

“‘A few bruises’,” Magnus repeats, and the glamour in his eyes starts to flicker. His eyes look like they might actually start on fire any second now. “You brushed off _any_ attempt I made to look at you, all of my offers to heal you, and - according to Maryse and Isabelle - you’d similarly refused any medical attention at the Institute beforehand.”

Alec has to avert his eyes, though it makes him feel stupidly childish. “Jace was in worse shape than me. I didn’t want to waste anyone’s time.” As he says it out loud, he realizes how _fucking stupid_ it is. But it’s the truth. And that’s all he’s got right now.

Magnus purses his lips and nods, and Alec’s not sure how he manages to make it look so sarcastic. “Of course. Because, as you said last night, you just had ‘a few bruises’. Hardly worth a bandaid.” He shifts his weight to his other foot again, like it’s a struggle to keep himself still. But his voice is still deadly calm. “Now, here’s the part where I get confused. Because, obviously, you were completely fine. You made it all the way here, after all. And you changed out of your gear, and you put yourself to bed. To sleep off your bruises.” He nods again. But then, he smiles. And it’s so insincere it looks almost _sinister._ “So imagine my surprise when I went to check on you later and found that your ‘ _few bruises’_ were _bleeding_ all over my bed.”

There’s so much stress building up inside Alec that he can already feel the beginnings of heartburn roil in his chest. “It wasn’t-”

“Of course, bruises don’t bleed,” Magnus goes on, in that same tense voice, “so even though you were too unconscious to consent, I took the liberty of examining you. It’s not best form, I admit, but all that blood looked just _awful_ on ivory sheets. I couldn’t allow such a sloppy color scheme in my bedroom.” His arms shift against his chest, like he’s squeezing them even tighter. “And what do you think I found, Alexander?”

Alec opens his mouth.

And closes it again.

But Magnus just waits. Eyebrows raised. Clearly expecting an answer.

“I…” Alec sighs. “I don’t know.” It’s embarrassing. It’s pitiful. But it’s true. “I didn’t, um. I didn’t… check.” Fuck, it sounds so stupid. But when he’d made it back to the Institute, he’d drawn a half-assed iratze, patched up anything he could see that was bleeding, and… that was it. He doesn’t know what else there might have been. Judging by the fact that he feels like he’s been run over by a bus, he’s pretty sure he missed something. Possibly many somethings.

Magnus takes a deep breath, and lets it out in a sharp, bitter laugh. “Four open wounds. A dislocated shoulder. And three. Fractured. Ribs.”

Shit.

Alec sucks in a breath, and now he understands why it hurts.

“Shit.”

“From what I can tell, you ‘bandaged’ the cuts - but I use that term _loosely_ \- and attempted to set your shoulder by yourself. Which would explain why it was set _incorrectly._ And I suppose there wasn’t much you could do about the ribs, so you just accepted that you’d have to deal with every breath being painful.” Magnus tilts his head to the side, and raises one eyebrow. “Does that sound about right? Do I have all the _details_ in order?”

Alec chews on the inside of his lower lip. “I used an iratze. I thought it’d… take care of everything. By morning.” 

Magnus looks even _more_ unimpressed than Alec was expecting.

Alec can see Magnus take another deep breath, and he wonders what the odds are of the mattress swallowing him whole so he can just die right now. It’s starting to look like the easiest alternative.

Magnus closes his eyes as he exhales. “You told me it was a small attack. That you outnumbered the demons three to one.”

Alec does his best to not _visibly_ wince with embarrassment. “Ah… Other way around.”

A strange, strangled sound gets caught in Magnus’s throat. He opens his eyes, and whatever’s left of the glamour crackles away. “I do not appreciate having someone lie right to my face, Alexander. Particularly not someone I-” He looks away, and his jaw tenses for a moment, like he’s swallowing whatever he was going to say. “Someone I care for.”

And…

Fuck.

_Fuck._

Alec feels sick. He’s never fucked up anything this badly before, and it’s actually _sickening._ “Mags-” he tries to start, but his voice feels frail. He swallows, and does his best to ignore the outrageous amount of pain it causes. “I’m sorry.”

Magnus looks at him, expression completely blank. “Sorry about what you did, or sorry that I’m angry about it?”

Alec’s mouth moves, like he’s going to speak. But he doesn’t have anything to say. He wants to fix this, but knows there’s nothing he can say to do that. So he figures the only thing he can do is be honest. “I didn’t want anyone to worry about me.”

“Have you ever considered the possibility that there are people who are going to worry about you regardless of whether you give them _permission_ to do so?”

Alec can’t handle the intensity of Magnus’s gaze anymore, so he looks down at himself instead. But that just lets him see the mess of dark, ugly bruises on his chest. “I… I don’t-” He feels his face start to scrunch up. But… shit. There’s no point. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” He takes a risk, and looks at Magnus again. “It was stupid.”

Magnus’s whole body tenses visibly. “You’re damn right it was stupid!” And- fuck. That might be the closest thing Alec’s ever heard to him actually shouting. But Magnus seems to catch himself right away, because Alec can see him work his expression back into something neutral. “You didn’t even _know_ how badly you were hurt, and what did you do? Went to sleep. Completely ignorant.” His voice is quiet again, but somehow it only makes him sound _more_ furious. “Who knows how much blood you could have lost from those unbandaged cuts. And thank god you didn’t have a concussion, or you might have just… never woken up. And none of us would have known why.”

Alec didn’t think he could feel any _worse_ about all of this… but there it is. Alec feels so cold that it’s almost numbing. Almost. 

But… there’s still nothing he can say. Absolutely nothing. He wants to look away, but he thinks that without the pressure of maintaining eye contact with Magnus, he might actually start tearing up. It’s ridiculous. This is all ridiculous. And all his fault. And there’s nothing he can do about it.

After the longest, most painful moments of silence that Alec has ever experienced, Magnus sighs. And he turns, putting his back against the doorframe. His arms are still crossed, and he raises one hand to fiddle with one of the thin chains around his neck. And he doesn’t look at Alec.

It’s a few more seconds before Magnus tips his head back. “What happened, Alec? Last night?” He tilts his head just far enough to catch Alec’s gaze, and his eyes look unbearably tired.

But Magnus knows what happened. Alec knows he knows. Because he said he talked to Isabelle today. And there’s no way Isabelle _didn’t_ tell him. So he must… For whatever reason, he must want to hear Alec say it. Maybe just to make sure that he won’t lie this time.

Now, Alec wants nothing more than to look away. Look at his own hands, look at the ceiling, look _anywhere_ but right into Magnus’s eyes. But he forces himself to stay steady. He’s already fucked up this bad. He doesn’t think he could handle making things any worse. “I…” He takes a shaky breath. “I got thrown into a cement wall. That w- that was the worst of it, anyway. The cuts are claw marks. I got distracted. I was looking the wrong way at the wrong time. And… yeah.”

By the Angel, actually have to say it out loud makes it feel even _dumber_ than it already was. It was such a fucking stupid mistake. And then he’d responded to the situation by continuing to make stupider and _stupider_ mistakes the rest of the night until he’d outdone himself and fucked up his entire relationship.

Great. Excellent. Fucking amazing.

Magnus looks calmer, but not in a good way. In an exhausted way. Like he’s so upset he’s just… given up. “And instead of going to the infirmary at the Institute - where they could have _easily_ treated your injuries - you came here.” His expression changes somehow, like it’s getting- shit. Like it’s getting sadder. Disappointed. “So you could… what? Trick me into healing you instead? Force me to-” He closes his mouth firmly, presses his lips together too tightly.

For a moment, Alec’s so stunned he literally can’t make himself speak.

But it only lasts a moment.

“No, Mags… _fuck_ no.” Alec’s voice is weaker than he wants it to be. He wants to make it obvious that he’s _horrified_ by the idea. “That’s not- It wasn’t that. At all.”

Magnus looks up at the ceiling, winding his necklace around his finger. “It’s not as though I’d ever see you hurt and just _leave_ it unattended. So when you intentionally refuse help from another source and come _here_ with all these injuries… _knowing_ that I’ll have no choice but to take care of them for you-”

“Magnus, please.” Alec hates interrupting him, _hates_ cutting him off for any reason. But he can’t handle hearing this. Seeing how upset Magnus looks. Hearing his voice get smaller and smaller. Alec’s not strong enough to…

He gathers himself as best he can. “I promise, I _swear,_ I didn’t think I’d need any healing.”

Magnus rolls his eyes with a little huff of a laugh.

“Mags, I’m serious. I used an iratze, and it helped with the pain so I thought it worked. And I really thought I’d bandaged everything. I mean, I know it wasn’t perfect, and I _know_ I should have gotten help.” He bites the inside of his cheek for a second to keep himself under control. “But I thought it was good enough. I thought I’d just be sore in the morning.”

He doesn’t know how to make himself clearer, how to make himself more sincere. So he waits until Magnus looks at him again, hoping he’ll be able to see how much Alec means this. Magnus is usually so good at reading him. Hopefully that still counts now. “I promise, I thought I was fine. I didn’t come here for help.”

Magnus just… looks at him for a minute. Alec has no idea what he’s thinking. He doesn’t show a damn thing on his face.

“Then why did you?”

Alec laughs.

Which - _fuck._ That’s not the right thing to do right now. But he can’t help it. It’s just a quiet, weak sound. “I already felt bad enough for having to cancel our date.”

Magnus scoffs. “Yes, because everyone knows the next-best thing to a picnic in Central Park is an emergency medical procedure.”

“Magnus.” While it’s weirdly encouraging that Magnus is edging away from honest pain and back toward his more usual bitter sarcasm, Alec doesn’t want to break the sincerity of the conversation. “I wanted to see you. It’s… you know. It’s been a while.”

“Fifteen days.”

“Sixteen,” Alec says quietly. He doesn’t really want to _correct_ Magnus about anything right now, but he wants Magnus to know that he’s been counting the days too.

Magnus raises an eyebrow, like a challenge. “Fifteen.”

“Skype doesn’t count.” Alec kinda wants to smile, but that feels a little too close to teasing. And he’s sure as fuck not that confident yet.

Magnus just rolls his eyes again, which is his version of conceding the point. His expression is a little softer now.

And somehow, that’s enough to make Alec feel like he can breathe again. “I missed you.”

Magnus’s posture relaxes, just a bit. “Yes, but this was hardly the reunion I’d hoped for, Alexander.”

Alec closes his eyes. “I know.” He opens them again. “I’m sorry, Mags.”

There’s silence for a few more seconds. Or maybe minutes, Alec’s not sure.

When Alec’s pretty certain that he’s actually going to die of misery if they keep doing and saying _nothing_ like this, Magnus finally moves. He walks further into the room, and-

Oh, damn.

Magnus sits down on the bed. Right next to Alec.

And Alec’s flooded with relief so intense he thinks he could actually cry.

Magnus stretches out next to him, leaning against the headboard, not quite close enough for them to actually be touching, but enough for Alec to feel the warmth of his body. And right now, that’s… That’s everything.

They’re not looking at each other. They’re just sitting there, side by side, looking straight ahead.

Another minute or two passes before Magnus breaks the silence. “Don’t lie to me, Alexander. Don’t do this again.”

His voice is quiet. Small. So sincere that it _aches._

Alec has to take several breaths before he feels like he can answer. “I won’t, Mags. I promise.”

But that doesn’t… sit right with him. “Well… the lying part. I promise I won’t lie again. But I, ah. I can’t really guarantee that I won’t get my ass kicked by a demon again.” He tries to make his voice light, but it doesn’t quite get there. He turns his head to face Magnus, with a small, hesitant smile. “But I’ll do my best.”

And Magnus…

He smiles back. Just barely. It doesn’t reach his eyes. But it’s something. “Good.” He takes a deep breath, and glances down at Alec’s chest. “How are you feeling?”

“Physically, or emotionally?” Alec doesn’t know where he got the courage to make a joke like that in _this_ situation, but it’s out of him before he can think better of it.

Magnus rolls his eyes, but not in a bad way. In a nice… fond way. It’s the only answer he gives.

Alec kinda wants to laugh, but he can’t quite make himself do it. “I mean, I don’t feel _good._ But I…” He chooses his words carefully. “I’m fine. Just sore.” And it’s true. He can tell. He’s gotten unfortunately familiar with different kinds of pain over the years. And he knows for a fact that what he’s feeling is just soreness. The remnants of old injuries. Nothing new, no open wounds or anything that hasn't healed properly. It’s a… stale feeling. It’s all just upset muscles and deep bruises. He’s fine. It’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before.

Magnus doesn’t seem convinced. Which - given the circumstances - isn’t really surprising. He just keeps looking over Alec’s bruises, then up to his face, and back down again. He’s looking so carefully, the gears in his head visibly turning. Like he’s… calculating something.

Then, he sighs. And flexes his hand where it’s resting in his lap. “Well, it won’t be too much trouble to take care of that. A massage should do the trick.” The tips of his fingers change, ever so slightly, glowing with just a faint touch of blue.

“No- Mags, you-” Alec’s words get stuck in his throat, and he tries not to audibly choke on them. But his stomach is already churning with guilt, and what Magnus is suggesting is enough to make him feel physically sick. “You don’t have to do that.”

Because it’s already awful. Magnus has already done too much. He’s already done so much more than he should have to, just because Alec’s such a fucking idiot. Alec can’t possibly let him do _more._ Just the fact that Magnus is _offering_ to is…

“There’s no point in letting you suffer all day,” Magnus says in that voice, the one that’s light and casual but so obviously fake. Alec’s familiar with it, but he’s not sure he’s ever heard it directed at _him_ before. Not like this. It’s fucking horrible. “Besides, your parents only let you stay here today so you could recover. Imagine their fury if I send you back to the Institute with so much as a crick in your neck. It’s not as though we need to give them _another_ reason to despise me.”

“Fuck them,” Alec spits out, like a reflex. He didn’t mean to. It’s almost… a surprise. To hear himself say it. But… yeah. It’s the truth. “They’re the ones who sent us on that mission in the first place. Just the three of us, without backup. After we’d already been on patrol all fucking day. Sending their own damn kids into a _hoard_ of demons after twelve hours on patrol. What did they expect? It’s their goddamn fault.”

Magnus makes a small sound. Alec doesn’t know what it means, but he looks at him and… He looks, almost… amused. Almost. It’s just the smallest little curve in the corner of his mouth.

“You shouldn’t… I don’t want you to waste any energy on me.” Fuck. Alec rolls his eyes at his own phrasing. “Any _more_ energy.” He sucks his lower lip between his teeth, mostly because he doesn’t have the strength to reach up and run his fingers through his hair, and he’s practically buzzing with nervous energy. “Don’t you, ah. Don’t you have a job at the Institute today?”

“Had,” Magnus corrects. “It’s almost evening, Alexander. I’ve already done three jobs today.” He laughs, harsh and sarcastic. “Well, _four,_ if you count the unexpected charity work I did last night.”

Alec winces, but it’s not like he doesn’t deserve it. Hell, he thinks he’d be _more_ uncomfortable if Magnus tried pretending like everything was okay and he _wasn’t_ furious with him. “Yeah, so I’m… I’m not gonna make it be five. I’m fine.” He sits up a little straighter, like he’s trying to prove it.

Of course, that just makes every single inch of his body feel like it's being stabbed with tiny seraph blades. He grits his teeth, desperately trying to keep the pain hidden, at least.

Because he’s not going to make Magnus help him. He absolutely refuses. Luckily, it’s not like this is the first time he’s dealt with pain, so he’s not completely clueless about how to deal with it on his own. “Could I- um. W-would you mind if I… took a bath?” Some hot water, and maybe another shot at a more effective iratze, and he’ll be fine. He knows it. He’s been through this before.

Except-

“But I don’t, uh… have to. I don’t want to be in your way. I can go home, if you’re busy.” He can’t handle the thought of being any more of an inconvenience.

Magnus lifts his chin. “I’m the High Warlock of Brooklyn, Alexander. I’m _always_ busy.” He says it seriously, but after a moment… he gives Alec a tiny, wry smile. “However, I’m fairly certain that none of my current work requires use of the bathtub.” He gets out of bed, and…

Hm. Alec misses feeling the heat of his body next to him. Things still don’t feel… right. Between them. It’s not like he’s _surprised_ by that - and he knows he fucking deserves it, but still. It was nice. Having Magnus sit next to him. It felt like a start. Something. 

Magnus holds out his hand, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Oh.

“I’m fine, Mags. Go do what you need to do. I can handle it.” It’s just getting from the bed to the bathtub. If Alec _can’t_ handle it, he’s seriously fucked.

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” Magnus purses his lips, which-

Yeah. That’s fair. Because swinging his legs over the side of the bed and trying to get to his feet feels _horrifically_ close to how Alec imagines death. Bad death. Slow death. But he has a point to make, so he forces himself to power through it, and manages to contain himself to only a few pitiful whimpers of pain. There’s a terrifying moment where he thinks his legs literally won’t support him, but he steadies himself on the nightstand… and it eventually passes. He’s just sore. Yeah.

He’s just really really _really_ fucking sore.

“See?” Alec gives his best attempt at a smile. “I’ve got this.”

Magnus looks extremely unconvinced. But his lingering anger at Alec must be enough to outweigh his usual Mother Hen tendencies, because he just rolls his eyes with a sigh. “Alright. Fine. Shout if you need me.”

And he’s gone. He turns away from Alec and disappears into the loft. It feels a little… sharper than Alec was hoping for. A little too blunt. But, fuck. In this situation, he realizes that it’s basically the best case scenario. And…

Well. It’s not like he’s going to feel any better about _any_ of this if he just stands here. So he makes his slow, uncertain, _agonizing_ way into the bathroom.

Strangely, being up and moving actually seems to help a bit. A little bit. A tiny, _tiny_ little bit. And it makes Alec realize that there’s something a little unfamiliar about the particular type of soreness he’s feeling. It’s… it’s like it’s… brighter? Somehow? It’s more of a sting than an ache.

He wonders if it has something to do with Magnus’s magic. He’s never been healed like that before. Maybe it has different side effects. A different sort of recovery period.

The good news is that it fades quicker than the soreness after being healed by an iratze. Almost like there’s something still in him, still working to fix the leftover problems as his body finds them.

So by the time he’s used the toilet, grabbed a towel, and hunted down a bottle of something that looks like it might be bubble bath, he actually feels… not terrible. Definitely not _as_ terrible, anyway.

He’s never used the tub here before.

He’s never seen Magnus use it, either.

Which is something he doesn’t even realize until he’s sitting on the edge of it, staring at the _ridiculous_ amount of spouts and jets and knobs and buttons (and who the fuck puts a _button_ on a bathtub?). He’s never even seen Magnus _acknowledge_ this tub before. It’s tucked away in the corner of the bathroom, on the other side of the shower. It’s oddly… unobtrusive. Easy to ignore.

And that’s saying something, because it’s fucking _massive._ Like everything else in this bathroom (and, honestly, everything else in the entire loft), it’s stupidly ornate. It looks like a normal-sized bathtub ate one of those inflatable mundane pools for children that Clary and Simon keep insisting are ‘normal’ things. It’s the same dark marble as the rest of the bathroom, which means it’s probably the most expensive thing Alec’s ever seen someone never use.

It takes an embarrassingly long time to figure out which knob is the goddamn hot water, and which thing stops the drain (because apparently being able to close the drain by actually touching the actual drain stopper wouldn’t be fancy enough). But it’s not like he’s going to call for Magnus’s help to figure out a fucking bathtub.

And anyway, if he’s literally _never_ seen Magnus use the tub, maybe Magnus wouldn’t know either.

So he struggles for a few minutes, hoping the struggle isn’t too audible in the rest of the loft. But eventually he manages to get the tub filling with acceptably hot water - well, water just short of scalding, really. He chews his lip nervously as he pours in an experimental amount of the stuff he seriously hopes is bubble bath… And it bubbles up instantly, thank goodness. He may not have a lot of experience with baths - particularly not ones as luxurious as this - but he knows bubbles are an absolute requirement.

Because, after all, it’s not like he’d ever be able to handle spending any amount of time lying in a bath where he can actually _see_ himself. See his body, just lying in the water, exposed. There’s no chance. He’d lose his mind within five minutes. No, he needs the bubbles. Needs that layer, for covering. Hiding.

And whatever this stuff is, it’s certainly going to do the trick. Alec squeezes out a bit more, just of be safe, and in a few minutes, there’s a thick, fluffy blanket of bubbles that completely spans the surface of the water.

A tub this extravagantly big takes a long-ass time to fill up. And Alec’s patience isn’t quite up to the challenge. So he gives in as soon as the water looks deep enough to cover him. It’s a little difficult to wrestle off his boxers when his body still very much hates him, but then he’s slipping down into the water…

He moans so loudly that he’s pretty sure Magnus can hear it. Hell, they can probably hear it on the street outside. He doesn’t mean to, it’s just… _fuck._ It’s the sweetest thing Alec’s ever felt. The water is just shy of being painfully hot, and the heat stings his skin and immediately seeps into his aching muscles. It's heaven.

This might be the only time in Alec’s life that he’s ever been in a bathtub big enough to actually let him lie down. A tub big enough for him to simultaneously soak his shoulders and toes without having to bend his knees. He fits perfectly, with a crazy amount of extra room on either side of him. It’s…

By the Angel. It’s _amazing._

There’s a little dip in the ledge, right under his head. It cradles his neck perfectly - which he realizes is probably the point. The bubbles are almost high enough to touch his chin, and they smell like-

Alec chuckles. Of course. Sandalwood. Alec’s taken enough showers here to not be surprised _at all._ It never used to be his favorite scent, but after three months with Magnus… well. He's starting to like it a bit more than he used to.

The bathroom’s quiet. A little steamy. It’s calm, and soothing, and the water is doing _wonders_ for his soreness. Everything is just relaxing and peaceful and _wonderful-_

So it’s a perfect time for Alec to think about how he’s just completely fucked up his relationship.

He sinks a little further into the water and sighs out his nose, making a little dent in the bubbles.

It’ll be fine. He knows it’ll be fine. He… he hopes it’ll be fine.

It’ll be fine.

It’s not like this is something he can undo, something he can fix. It’s done. He fucked up, and this fuck up can’t be fucked back down. He has to deal with that. He wants to fix it, he wants _so badly_ to fix it. But he knows he can’t.

But… at the very least… it’s over now. Even if it’s something he can’t undo, it’s something he can… not do again.

He still doesn’t know why the fuck he did it in the first place.

His intentions were good. That’s what he keeps telling himself, anyway. He just didn’t want anyone to worry. Jace was in worse shape than him. Jace needed help sooner than he did. He was the priority.

And then… Alec’s memory gets fuzzier. Because he’d lied to Magnus. Yeah, he thought the iratze would take care of everything, but he’d still blatantly _lied_ about what had happened. How badly he’d been hurt. And-

Fuck. Alec doesn’t know why. Maybe… Maybe he didn’t want to make Magnus worry. Or maybe he didn’t want to admit how stupid he’d been to get injured like that. Maybe he didn’t want… didn’t want Magnus to know that he _could_ get hurt like that. Didn’t want Magnus to have to see the proof of how easy it is for Alec to get hurt. How easy it’d be for… something worse to happen.

Alec closes his eyes.

Fucking useless. It doesn’t fucking matter what his _justification_ was. He’d still fucked it all up. Things have been going so nicely, for such a long time. He’s been so happy. He’s been happier than… he’s ever been. And now he’s fucked it all up. Fucking stupid. Not surprising, but still so fucking stupid…

The bathroom door opens.

Alec inhales sharply. His eyes snap open. He’s-

He’s awake. He didn’t- huh.

He didn’t think he’d fallen asleep. But now he’s waking up, so he must have drifted off.

Great. After everything else he’s done, now he’s gonna drown because he decided to take a nap in a bathtub. Idiot.

The water is still _very_ hot, so he doesn’t think he could have been out for long. He rubs his fingers together and… no. They’re not pruney yet. It’s probably only been a few minutes. Probably.

He’s facing away from the door, so he can’t actually see Magnus walk over to the tub, but he can hear his bare feet on the tiles. Alec must still be a little groggy from his impromptu sleep, because he can’t make himself tilt his head to see what Magnus is doing.

But he doesn’t have to, because Magnus comes right over to him. Against all of his better instincts, Alec’s first impulse is to glance down, to make sure the bubbles are still thick enough to be covering his body. He grits his teeth as soon as he realizes that’s what he’s doing.

Because leave it to Alec to be dysfunctional enough that he can’t even let his boyfriend see him naked. After more than three whole months together, he still can’t do it. Yes, he’s been naked with Magnus, more times than he can count. But it’s always been in bed, under the covers. Even if he _loves_ having Magnus be with him, and feel him, and touch him, he still can’t let Magnus actually _see_ him. Because he’s stupid, and he’s ridiculous, and he’s fucking defective as a person, and even more so as a boyfriend.

Magnus sits on the edge of the tub (though ‘edge’ seems like an understatement; this is probably as wide as a park bench), and sets something down. The little _clack_ sound finally makes Alec look up-

Magnus changed clothes. Alec doesn’t really remember what he’d been wearing before (since there were more important things to worry about), but it sure wasn’t this. He’s in a plain, white t-shirt. Literally. Alec’s brain almost can’t process it right away. It’s just… a white, v-neck shirt. It looks like it could have come in a package of ten from the clearance section at Walmart. And aside from the shirt, it’s just-

Alec swallows.

A tiny, _tiny_ pair of underwear. Alec’s seen some of Magnus’s underwear before, but usually just in the process of undressing. He’s never seen him just… walk around like that. With nothing else covering him. Nothing but this small piece of fabric. It’s a soft orange color, or maybe peach? Covered with an intricate pattern of dark red lace. It looks so soft… like it’d be so nice to touch, and it’s so _beautiful_ that Alec feels his face start to heat up for some reason-

Alec snaps out of it. Out of… whatever that was. It’s just clothes. Magnus just changed clothes. He looks more comfortable now. He’s taken off most of his jewelry, and he’s wearing something casual and comfortable. That’s it.

He’s holding a mug. One of his truly _giant_ mugs that he can fill to the brim with coffee and chug in a startlingly short amount of time. This one is green, with some sort of splattery black design on it, like weird modern art.

And there’s another mug, resting next to him on the edge of the tub. Magnus nods toward it. “Go on. You haven’t had anything in your system all day. You need fluids.”

Alec’s stomach twists, and he’s not sure if it’s with guilt, or the realization that yeah, he hasn’t eaten anything since yesterday’s lunch. “You didn’t have to.”

“I didn’t,” Magnus says lightly, leaning back against the wall. “I was already making a pot for myself. Believe me, if it would have taken _any_ extra effort to make some for you, I wouldn’t have.”

Alec chuckles. He’s not sure why, but he can tell it’s an acceptable reaction. Magnus’s anger doesn’t sound entirely genuine now, like it did in the bedroom. There’s a hint of teasing to it.

It’s a bit of a struggle to get his arm out of the water to pick up the mug. The bath is just so nice, achingly hot, smelling like sandalwood, really working _wonders_ on his body. But now that it’s been acknowledged, his stomach is absolutely insistent, so he forces himself to focus and get a few sips of coffee-

And it’s definitely not coffee.

It takes a moment to work through the surprise, but once he does, he realizes…

Damn.

“This is really good,” Alec says, trying not to sound as surprised as he is. The tea is strong and sweet and smokey, like a sugar-covered campfire. And there’s enough milk in it for it to be smooth and creamy and _fantastic._ “Where’d you get it?”

Magnus scoffs. “I _made_ it, Alexander. You think the perfect cup of tea is just sitting on the counter at Starbucks, waiting for me to take it?” He makes a dismissive sound into his mug as he drinks.

And then they’re… quiet. Magnus stretches his legs out on the edge of the tub, crossed at the ankle. Alec sinks as far as he can into the water while still being able to sip his tea. Neither of them say anything.

It’s not a strained silence. Well, not as strained as Alec expected, anyway. It’s still not… great. There’s this thing hanging over them now, and it’s obvious that they both feel it. It may not be horrible, but it’s definitely a little tense.

Alec’s almost emptied his mug when Magnus finally breaks the silence. “I’m still mad at you.” He says it quietly. Gently. Like he’s not trying to be harsh. Just honest.

It’s-

It sucks, having to hear it. It fucking sucks. But, all things considered…

“Yeah,” Alec says, “that makes sense.”

Magnus hums, and rests his mug in his lap. He leans his head back against the wall, tipped up toward the ceiling. “Lucky for you, I like you more than I like holding grudges.” He gives a quiet, humorless laugh. “And I _really_ love holding grudges.”

That…

Alec looks up at him, but Magnus’s eyes are closed. His breath gets stuck in his throat.

Magnus runs his fingers across the lip of the mug, and it vanishes in a bright blue shimmer. And somehow, it feels like the end of a sentence.

Alec looks back down, back at the slowly-dissipating layer of bubbles on the water. He lets the silence continue for what probably ends up being a few minutes… then he decides to try something else.

“There’s- um. It’s kinda… kinda surprising, if you think about it.” He tries to make his voice sound playful, but he misses by so much that it just ends up sounding sad. “I made it three whole months before really fucking up.” He chuckles nervously. “That’s _way_ longer than I thought I’d last.”

He doesn’t know why the fuck he thinks joking about this is the right idea, but he’s not sure he can handle the silence much longer. And… there’s part of him that… doesn’t want to stop talking about this. Not yet. Things still aren’t right, and he doesn’t want to let this fade into the background, not if Magnus is still hurt. He wants to deal with it. If Magnus is still gonna be mad at him, Alec wants him to really _be_ mad at him. Up front, and open. Not festering in silence. So Alec knows it, and doesn’t have to wonder if there’s still bitterness left days and weeks and months from now.

Yeah, it feels like a risk, like it could be a _horrible_ idea, but…

Magnus’s mouth twists up into a smirk, so that’s something. “Technically, you only made it this long because your first spectacular fuck-up happened _before_ we were officially dating.”

Alec’s face heats up and his throat makes a stupid noise and part of him wants to sink under the water and never resurface. “Th-that was… different. That doesn’t count.”

“Oh, really?” Magnus sounds much too pleased with himself. “You think marrying someone else would have been _good_ for us? For our relationship?”

Alec tightens his grip on the handle of his mug until it hurts his fingers. “It…” He doesn’t have a comeback. He knows he doesn’t. “Are you ever gonna let that go?”

Magnus furrows his eyebrows. “Of course not. It’s a goldmine. And you’re far too cute when you’re being teased. I can’t resist.”

It takes a moment, but… Alec smiles.

Yeah. They’re gonna be okay.

Alec wants to apologize again. It’s his first instinct. Well, more like a gnawing, nagging _need._ But it just doesn’t… feel right. Magnus wasn’t particularly receptive the last time he tried to apologize. And the last thing Alec wants is for it to seem like he’s just doing it to get Magnus to forgive him. To absolve himself. To make _himself_ feel better.

And, yeah, he _would_ feel a hell of a lot better if Magnus actually forgave him, but he doesn’t want to push for it. Prompt him. Right now, saying he’s sorry would feel like outright _begging_ for Magnus to make Alec feel better. And that’s bullshit. But he doesn’t know what else to say. He is sorry. He really is. But there’s no way to say that without-

Oh.

“Mags?”

“Hm?”

Alec takes a breath. “Thank you. For- for taking care of me. I know you shouldn’t… _have_ to. But…” There’s too much he wants to say. And he doesn’t know how to say it. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He doesn’t look up, but he can hear Magnus sigh. “You’re welcome, darling.”

Darling.

Warmth seeps into Alec’s chest, completely unrelated to the heat of the bath.

There’s silence again, but it’s much more comfortable this time. Alec finishes his tea before it can get too cold. The bath is starting to cool off a bit, and the bubbles probably won’t last much longer. He should probably start thinking about getting out, showering, and trying to do some damage control on this day he’s completely wasted.

Magnus shifts. It’s small, barely noticeable. But after about a minute or so, he uncrosses his legs. And he slowly, _slowly_ lowers one foot over the edge of the tub, and dips it into the water.

Alec really doesn’t think the water is very hot anymore, but Magnus must not agree. Because the moment his foot gets wet, he inhales sharply, like the water stung him. Alec looks up, but Magnus’s eyes are still closed. And he’s frowning, his eyebrows knit and his jaw tense. He looks absolutely miserable. It doesn’t really… make sense.

Magnus doesn’t relax at all, but he gradually lets his leg sink further into the water, until his foot is resting at the bottom of the tub.

And it… it doesn’t feel like the right time yet. It’s possible that Alec should still leave Magnus his space for a while…

But he’s just so _tense,_ Alec can literally _feel_ how uncomfortable Magnus is, and even if he doesn’t understand why, he can’t just… leave it. He has to try something.

Alec brushes his fingers across Magnus’s calf, under the water. As gentle and careful as possible. Magnus still doesn’t relax, but he doesn’t seem to get _worse,_ either. So Alec leaves his hand there, resting against Magnus’s leg, rubbing small circles with his thumb.

Magnus hums, and slowly, Alec can feel some of the tension slip out of him.

And for a few minutes, it’s just… nice. Something still feels a little bit _off_ about Magnus, but the longer they sit there, with that small point of contact, it seems to get better.

Alec’s still awkwardly holding his empty mug above the surface of the water with his other hand, and it starts getting awkward enough to ruin the mood. He doesn’t want to move… But after another minute or so, it gets too uncomfortable to be worth it. He lifts his arm out of the tub just far enough to set the mug on the ledge. It’s not a big movement, but it’s enough to disturb the water, and the tiny, _tiny_ splashing sound seems ridiculously loud in the silence of the bathroom-

Magnus’s leg jolts. And with a breath sharp enough that it’s almost a gasp, he lifts his leg out of the water. Alec looks up just in time to see him flick his hand, and the drops of water disappear from his skin with a few blue sparks.

Alec doesn’t know what’s wrong. What changed. Why he didn’t just dry off with the towel on the floor next to him.

“Mags?”

Magnus clears his throat. And he puts on that smile. The little, forced, _fake_ smile.

And he doesn’t say anything. He just reaches over to grab Alec’s abandoned mug. And he gets up. To leave.

Alec wants to stop him, to ask him what’s wrong. But he doesn’t get the chance. Magnus is already gone. It’s…

Well. It’s weird. It was a weird moment. But Alec reminds himself that Magnus has had a spectacularly shitty day (all thanks to his worthless boyfriend), so Alec’s pretty sure the least he can do is leave him in peace.

Except…

The water’s basically just lukewarm now. The layer of bubbles is more of an opaque film. His body doesn’t hurt as much, but that’s just letting him realize all the _other_ problems he’s gonna have to deal with. Like hunger. And the start of a headache, right at the base of his skull.

Yeah. He’s not sure if it’s because Magnus left, or because it’s been a pretty long time. But for whatever reason, the bath just… isn’t good anymore.

Of course, the bubble residue leaves his skin feeling weird and oily, even after he’s out and dried off. Baths always manage to make him feel significantly _less_ clean getting out than he did getting in. So as the tub drains, he takes a quick shower. He doesn’t bother with his hair, or his face. He just needs to scrub off the-

Alec laughs.

He needs to clean off the layer of sandalwood bubble bath with some sandalwood bodywash.

There’s no difference. No fucking difference.

But somehow, it works. After his sixty-second shower, he feels clean, and fresh, and… not horrifically sore. Still sore, yeah. But no more than he’d be after a particularly rough training session. Not sore like he _should_ be, considering what happened to him last night.

And, great. Here comes the guilt again.

He wonders how long it’ll be before he can think about that mission without wanting to puke.

They’re fine. They’re _fine._ They’ve talked about it. He’s apologized. Magnus is still mad at him, but he won’t be forever. It’s over now. Alec’s done all he can do.

But, that…

No.

That’s bullshit.

‘All he can do.’

_Bullshit._

With everything Magnus did for him last night, everything Magnus does for him _any_ fucking night, everything Magnus has to put up with from him, all his continuous stupidity and overall _incompetence_ as a boyfriend (and a person in general), and this is… all Alec can do? Apologize?

Fuck that.

He can do better.

He knows he’s gonna do better. He’s already promised Magnus that. But just saying ‘okay I won’t lie to you anymore’ isn’t a _good_ thing. It’s literally the bare minimum of not being a shitty person. Alec wants to do better. More. Something good. Something… nice.

He towels at his hair absentmindedly - even though it wasn’t really wet to begin with. And he glances around the bathroom.

There’s a pile of clothes on the counter. Neatly folded. A t-shirt, boxers, and sweatpants. Magnus must have put them there for him.

Of course he did.

Alec gets dressed quickly, mostly to avoid having to see himself in the massive mirror. His body protests a few times, still aching in a few places when he bends a certain way. But it’s fine. He’s fine. Right now, he refuses to _not_ be fine. He looks around again-

Huh.

Maybe…

He chews his lip.

Yeah.

There’s a little tub of lotion on the counter, next to the sink. It’s the stuff Magnus uses after showering (he’s even managed to get Alec to use it once or twice, just on his dry elbows). Alec picks it up on his way out of the bathroom.

“Hey, Mags?” he calls out the open bedroom door. Magnus is probably in the library, so he might be out of earshot-

Oh. He’s right outside the door. One of the armchairs has been moved from its usual spot by the minibar. Magnus is stretched out sideways across it, legs hanging over the edge, tapping lazily at his phone. It’s…

Shit. It’s probably so he could hear if Alec called for him. When he was in the bath, and probably earlier too. So he could hear when Alec woke up.

Alec grits his teeth against the acidic sting of heartburn rising in his chest. “Are you… um. Are you doing anything right now?”

Magnus glances up without lowering his phone. He opens his mouth to respond, but stops. His eyes are locked on the lotion in Alec’s hand. “Changed your mind about that massage?” He sounds… tired. Resigned.

“Yes- ah. No. Sort of.” Alec sputters, wincing at his own dumb voice. “I just… I thought. You know, you’ve had a shittier week than me. By a long shot. So, um,” he gestures uselessly with the little container, “I figured… you probably need one. More than I do.”

Magnus’s eyes flick between Alec’s face and the lotion.

And he smiles.

It’s subdued. But it’s fond, and happy, and _real._ It’s the best thing Alec’s seen all day. “That’d be nice.”

Alec tries to keep himself in check, but the relief of seeing Magnus look like that warms Alec from head to toe and he physically can’t keep a stupid fucking grin off of his face. “Okay.”

Magnus gets up, leaving his phone on the chair.

And, of course, Alec immediately panics.

“I haven’t, um-” He swallows. “I haven’t actually… _done_ this before.” He runs his free hand across the back of his neck, like that might somehow calm his sudden attack of nerves. “I have no clue what I’m doing. So it might be… yeah. Horrible. But, um. Don’t like… _let_ it be horrible, okay? If I really fuck it up, tell me.”

Magnus’s smile just gets bigger. Except now, it’s a lot closer to a smirk. “Hm. I believe I’ve heard that before.”

“Wh-”

Oh.

_Oh._

Alec’s face practically _ignites_ with a blush.

Because… yes. He’s said that before. Almost word for word.

Fuck.

He’d said almost the exact same thing the first time he’d given Magnus a blowjob.

Well. At the time, Magnus had said it was cute of him. Charming. Hopefully that’s still true.

Magnus chuckles a little, undoubtedly at Alec's stupid face. But he doesn’t draw it out. He just walks right past him, into the bedroom, reaching over his head to-

By the Angel.

Magnus strips off his shirt, and tosses it in the vague direction of the closet door. So now, he’s just…

He’s getting on the bed. Shirtless. Wearing absolutely nothing but that tiny, lacy, _gorgeous_ underwear that makes Alec’s gut twist when he looks at it for too long…

_Fuck._

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all. Sixteen days. It’s been sixteen days since they’ve seen each other, which is a new record for them. Yes, they talked every single day. And yes, Alec ended up jerking himself off a _ridiculous_ number of times (because he’s learned that that’s apparently actually enjoyable… _highly_ enjoyable). But this is still the first time they’ve actually been together in sixteen whole days. Sixteen. _Sixteen days._

And now Magnus is lying face-down on the bed wearing the sexiest, _smallest_ piece of clothing Alec’s ever seen and there’s just so much _skin_ and muscle and it’s all right here and holy _shit._ Alec’s not sure he can do this without dying.

On the bright side, a massage sounds like an even better idea than before. Because now Alec can just… _touch_ him. Just sit on the bed with Magnus and touch him. And, hopefully, make him feel good.

Fuck. This is the best idea anyone’s ever had.

That being said, the actual… mechanics of it are still completely foreign to him. He kneels on the bed next to Magnus, and he’s- he’s immediately lost. He assumes he’s supposed to… fuck. Does he just, straddle him? Sit right on his ass? That can’t be right.

“Come on,” Magnus says, with just a _hint_ of teasing in his voice. His face is mostly buried in a pillow, but Alec can still see that he’s smirking.

Well… fine then.

He’s gonna do this.

It takes about two seconds after getting situated on Magnus’s thighs for Alec to become terrified that he’s gonna get a boner. Just his luck. When he’s trying to do a nice, _innocent_ thing for Magnus. Of course.

A few deep breaths are enough to calm himself down. And then, the rest of the process starts to hit him, and he realizes that he’s gonna be way too nervous and focused during this for him to possibly get aroused. Because he’s unscrewing the lid of the lotion and trying to figure out how much of it he’s supposed to rub between his hands and he’s just _really_ never done this before. Anything like this. And what’s worse, he’s never had anyone do this to him, either. So he doesn’t even have a point of reference and he’s definitely going to fuck this up, this was a _terrible_ idea-

“Alexander, _relax,”_ Magnus mumbles into the pillow. “Your stress is contagious.”

Right.

Right. Yeah. He can do this.

Yeah.

Start simple.

Alec spreads the lotion across Magnus’s skin, starting at the small of his back, and working up to his shoulder blades. He knows it’s not really a ‘massage’ yet, but it’s… it’s still good. It still feels good. Everything about Magnus’s body is so impossibly _beautiful,_ both to see and to touch, and Alec gets to do both right now.

On probably the third or fourth time up his spine, Alec presses his fingers in, just a little bit more than he had been.

And Magnus _sighs._ A tiny, happy sound. It’s beautiful.

Maybe this isn’t so hard.

It sort of… falls into place, after that. Surprisingly easy. Alec just… touches him. In long, slow movements. Sometimes pressing with his whole hand, sometimes just lightly trailing his fingertips. At one point, he curls his fingers and scratches long lines all the way from Magnus’s neck to the hem of his underwear-

Which makes Magnus moan so goddamn loudly that Alec almost moans right back.

Every now and then, Magnus gives him actual instruction. “Slow down a bit,” and “Harder, use the heel of your hand,” and “Mm, perfect, right there.”

When something is good, he lets Alec know. Like… _really_ lets him know. It starts small, with a heavy breath, or a tiny little whimper. But after ten or fifteen minutes have gone by, it’s moans and sighs and whispers until Alec literally can’t tell the difference between what Magnus sounds like now and what Magnus sounds like during sex.

And that just… makes Alec… wonder.

Because Magnus is groaning and shifting against the bed and now he’s all relaxed and sleepy and basically _naked_ and they haven’t seen each other for over two weeks…

And is this…

Is Alec supposed to… _do_ something?

Because he certainly… well. He certainly wouldn’t mind. Doing something. He just doesn’t want to make it seem like that’s why he suggested this in the first place. It’s not. He wanted to do something for Magnus. He doesn’t want to make Magnus think he was trying to get something out of it.

But he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do now. And he’s pretty sure that asking ‘Are you hoping for me to initiate sex?’ would kill the mood, regardless of the answer.

So he tries to find a way to… offer. Sort of. Just a bit.

His hands wander to the small of Magnus’s back, and stay there. He slowly, carefully starts to trail his touches around to Magnus’s hips. And he slips the tips of his fingers into Magnus’s underwear-

“Mm,” Magnus tilts his face away from the pillow. “Not right now, darling.”

“Okay,” Alec immediately pulls his hands away, going back to Magnus’s shoulders - which seem like the most _non-_ suggestive place for his hands to be. “Good. Just… checking.”

Magnus chuckles quietly, cozying himself further into the bedding. “You are doing an _excellent_ job, Alexander.”

Alec feels a little burst of warmth in his chest, and he’s not sure if it’s pride… or gratitude. That he’s able to do this for Magnus. That it’s working. That he found something nice he can do for him. Something nice.

Now that the silence has been broken, Alec has to ask: “How was the job today? At the Institute?” He knows he should have asked earlier, but there wasn’t really a good opportunity. Magnus was already fucking pissed; there was no reason to bring this up and make things _worse._

As expected, Magnus tenses a little under Alec’s hands. But it only lasts a second. “Oh, it was _delightful.”_ And- uh oh. Alec recognizes that as his most sarcastic tone. “You know how much I _love_ working for people who’ve literally tried to kill me. Having to demand payment three separate times because they think _my_ abilities are _their_ right. Spending an entire morning being referred to by my _species_ instead of my name.” He makes a sound that’s part scoff, part laugh. “And I didn’t even get to sneak a few kisses from my boyfriend for my troubles.” He sighs grandly. “Honestly, darling, the Institute is bad enough even when I get to see you. When you aren’t there, it’s absolute _torture.”_

He says it as a joke, but Alec doesn’t laugh. It’s not a real joke. It’s one of the fake ones. One of the ones Magnus says to brush off something that’s important. In this case, something that’s painful.

Alec presses his fingers up Magnus’s neck, into his hair. “Do you… Do you wanna, maybe… vent? A little? I’ll listen.” It feels like a small offer in comparison to the scope of what Magnus dealt with, but it’s something.

Magnus laughs bitterly. “Really? I don’t have particularly _nice_ things to say about your people right now, Alexander. Particularly your parents.”

“Yeah, well, that makes two of us.” Hell, by this point, Alec’s realized that he actually likes having a boyfriend who complains about Robert and Maryse as much as he does. It’s a weird thing to have in common, but it’s a nice point of unification, at least.

Magnus is silent for a few moments. “Hm. It’s a rather… extensive list of grievances.” He turns his face, looking over his shoulder so he can meet Alec’s gaze. “We could be here all day.”

And…

Alec can’t help himself. He leans down, and presses a kiss to Magnus’s cheek. Right next to his mouth. His lips linger against Magnus’s skin for several seconds, and something lights up in his chest when he hears Magnus make a small, happy sound.

Alec smiles as he finally pulls away. “Sounds good to me.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually the first chapter I started writing for this fic. Somehow, it got really messy when I was writing it, so I gave up and left it unfinished. It finally seemed like the right time to rework it and try again.
> 
> Hey! In case any of you haven't seen it yet, I am thrilled to announce that there is now a [Podfic](http://archiveofourown.org/series/496954) for the ALDNT series! I'm so, _so_ excited about it. It's absolutely lovely. Go listen to it and give it all your love.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, is the deja vu just… killing you? It’s kinda killing me.”  
> Alec makes a considering noise as he sips his drink. “Not really. I think there are enough differences. Substantial ones.” He smacks his lips. “We’re at a bar, for instance.”  
> Jace tips his beer toward Alec in acknowledgement. “Mm. Good point."

“So, is the deja vu just… killing you? It’s kinda killing me.”

Alec makes a considering noise as he sips his drink. “Not really. I think there are enough differences. Substantial ones.” He smacks his lips. “We’re at a bar, for instance.”

Jace tips his beer toward Alec in acknowledgement. “Mm. Good point. And we’re actually drinking.”

“We’re speaking to each other.”

Jace laughs. “Neither of us had to be _tricked_ into being here.”

“Eugh.” Alec rolls his eyes. “Neither of us are going through some massive personal crisis.”

“You look significantly prettier.” Jace waggles his eyebrows.

“Damn right!” Alec slams his now-empty glass on the bar for emphasis, fighting the urge to giggle because there’s no way he’s _that_ drunk _this_ early in the night. “And, what else?” He purses his lips in fake confusion for a moment, like he’s thinking too hard. “Oh yeah. I’m actually in love with my fiance.”

Jace hums against the lip of his beer. “He’s the right gender and everything.”

Alec _does_ giggle this time, because he can’t help himself. “So, yeah. This time pretty much kicks last time’s ass.”

“See? I plan one hell of a bachelor party.” Jace signals the bartender, gesturing to Alec’s empty glass.

“For the last time Jace, you did not _plan_ this,” Alec pokes the bar with his index finger, because it feels like that’ll help make his point for some reason. “You just stole the exact same thing Izzy planned the first time.”

“Hey!” Jace holds his bottle under Alec’s nose, like he’s trying to threaten him with it. “I planned the _shit_ out of this. I picked the bar. I picked the day. I found someone to watch the kids-”

“They’re at home! With _Magnus,”_ Alec bats the bottle away from his face… and… huh. It’s a bit clumsier than it should be. “You did not _arrange_ for my children to be in their own home with their own father.”

“Yeah, but I made sure Magnus wasn’t busy. That he didn’t have any jobs or anything tonight. I _coordinated.”_ He interlaces his fingers, expression ridiculously serious.

He looks so intense that Alec takes pity on him. He clearly needs this. “You… You _did_ pick the bar.” He forces himself to keep his voice steady and sincere, even though there’s more stupid laughter building in his throat. “You _planned_ the bar very well.”

“Thank you.” Jace sounds weirdly _smug_ about it. “Now if you could do me a favor, kindly tell Izzy that my bachelor party was better than hers, next time you see her.”

Part of Alec _really_ wants to point out that that’s only true because of circumstances that have absolutely nothing to do with Jace or his involvement…

But then the bartender sets a fresh Sex on the Beach in front of Alec as she walks past. And Alec makes the diplomatic decision to not bite the hand that’s paying for his alcohol.

“Yep. Will do. Way better.”

Jace chuckles and scoots a little bit on his stool. A little closer to Alec. Until their elbows bump and their knees knock together. Which-

Great. Which means Jace is _already_ starting to get cuddly. After only two beers.

So Jace is already turning into a physically needy teddy bear and Alec is already giggling at everything that happens. This is fucking ridiculous. He knows they’re getting older, but really. They’re not even thirty yet (though… fuck, just _barely_ ). Their alcohol tolerance shouldn’t have plummeted this far already.

And it doesn’t look like either of them are planning on slowing down on the drinks anytime soon. So they’re just gonna get worse. Hell, at this rate they’re probably gonna end up spooning in the back of the cab on the way home.   

“Y’know, I was gonna-” Jace interrupts himself by taking another drink. “I made another plan. Didn’t pan out. But it was good. I was gonna really lean in to the deja vu thing and bring it all full-circle.”

Alec giggles as he picks up his glass. “Yeah? How?”

Jace turns to him, face completely serious. “I invited Lydia.”

Fucking _fuck._

Alec snorts into his glass, choking on laughter and alcohol and his own tongue all at once. He sputters helplessly until his throat is clear enough for him to be completely overtaken by laughter. It’s an actual goddamn spit-take. Which, of course, just makes him laugh harder.

Fuck. He can’t breathe.

Jace is laughing too, but it’s _much_ more subdued. It’s more like he’s pleased with himself than he actually thinks it’s funny.

It feels like it takes about six hours for Alec to calm down. There are tears in his eyes. He’s gasping. Shit. When did he get this tipsy?

“By the Angel,” he pants out between whatever little giggles are left in his system. “I can’t tell if that’s- if that’s like, _awful,_ or… actually really great?”

Jace downs the last of his beer. And he immediately starts messing with the empty bottle, sliding it back and forth across the bar between his palms. “Inviting someone to their ex-fiance’s bachelor party? Pretty awful.” He snorts out a little laugh. “Taking _Lydia Branwell_ out drinking? Fuckin’ _awesome.”_

Alec just giggles again, and fucking _dammit_ he needs to stop fucking doing that. He’s an adult, and he’s only had…

Oh.

How…

How many drinks has he had? Two.

Three?

This is his third. Yeah. Gotta be that. He’s just starting his third. Unless it’s his fourth-

Fuck it. It’s his bachelor party.

Besides, it’s a bar. It’s not like he came here to keep a super meticulous record of how much alcohol he’s consuming. He’s not paying, he’s not driving, he’s not even going home tonight. He’s crashing on Jace’s couch so he can’t accidentally wake up Magnus or the kids by trying to drunkenly sneak into the loft at the asscrack of dawn (and so he can get his shit together before he goes home in the morning, since he’s not exactly comfortable with the idea of being _hungover_ in front of his children). He’s done literally everything possible to make sure that it doesn’t fucking matter how many drinks he has tonight. So he’s gonna fucking enjoy himself. And he’s not gonna care that he’s already lost count. Not his problem.

“So did you like, _actually_ invite her?” Alec asks, though it’s muffled, since he’s apparently decided he really needs to be chewing the end of his straw right now.

Jace nods, picking at the label on his empty beer. “She said she would have _loved_ being here.” He makes a weird sound, like he’s trying not to laugh at the idea. “But she _really_ can’t get here until next week.”

“Mmphhh,” Alec mumbles into his glass, trying to catch an ice cube with his tongue. “Makes sense. She’s a busy woman, running an Institute and whatnot.” Alec’s still honestly flattered that Lydia’s making it to the wedding at all, considering how fucking ridiculous her schedule is (though she’s said she wouldn’t miss it for anything). Yeah, she’s only getting here the day of, and then leaving first thing the next morning, but still. For her, that’s _massive._ She hasn’t been able to get to New York at all in almost a year.

But now that he knows what could have been, Alec’s just really really really _really_ wishing she was here tonight, because now he’s hyper-aware of the fact that he hasn’t seen her in person in, like, forever. Ten months. Which is basically forever. Shit, the last time she was here, the kids weren’t even in school yet.

Alec still can’t manage to get a fucking ice cube in his mouth, so he sets down his glass and starts chewing on the orange slice perched on the rim instead. He glances over at Jace-

And he’s drinking a new beer.

When did that happen? Alec must have been more invested in ice-catching than he thought.

“So when’s Magnus doing his?” Jace asks abruptly, like it’s the second half of a conversation they’ve already started. Which it’s-

Which it’s not. Right?

“Doing his what?”

“Bachelor party.”

Oh.

Alec giggles into his orange peel. “Tomorrow.” He tries to keep his voice steady, but he can feel all that contained laughter doing something truly _stupid_ to his face. “And neither of us have any idea what it’s gonna be. It’s a surprise.” He turns to meet Jace’s gaze, so he can really grasp the severity of his next sentence. “Planned by Isabelle. And Catarina.”

Jace’s eyes get as big as a cartoon baby’s. “Holy _fuck.”_ He sets down his beer, and swivels in his stool so he’s facing Alec. “You can’t let him go. Alec, _Alec,”_ he grabs him by the shoulder, “he’s gonna _die._ They’re all gonna die.”

Alec laughs as he tries to shake off Jace’s hand. “No one’s gonna die. They’re responsible adults.” Hm. He wrinkles his nose. “Catarina’s a responsible adult. She’ll make sure everyone’s… fine. They’ll be fine.”

Jace makes an inarticulate sound that manages to convey that he’s _seriously_ not convinced. “Bachelor parties are literally meant to be the craziest, stupidest, most irresponsible of all the party categories. Even _mundane_ ones can end up being fucking nuts.” His face twists up. “Throw in Isabelle and actual _magic?_ By Monday morning you’re not gonna have a fiance left.”

Alec shoves at Jace half-heartedly with his elbow. “Yeah, ‘cause that’d be the _perfect_ way for Magnus to celebrate the wedding. By getting miserably shit-faced.” He scoffs as he takes another drink.

Jace turns back to face the bar… but then he uses the movement as an excuse to scootch even _further_ into Alec’s personal space. “Isn’t that the whole point of a bachelor party?” He bumps their elbows together with a stupid grin. “You’re supposed to… y’know- You gotta do all the ridiculous shit you can think of, since it’s your last chance. That’s what they always say. It’s the last night before you get, like… chained down and shit.”

He-

Alec furrows his eyebrows. He can _feel_ his head spin around, trying to process-

“ _Fucking_ straight people,” Alec groans, a little louder than he means to. He has to put both his hands on the bar to steady himself, since he thinks his outrage might be strong enough to actually make him fall over if he doesn’t. “Magnus and I had to fight the Clave every fucking day for _five_ goddamn _years_ before they’d even let us get married. But yeah, sure, let everybody joke about ‘marriage is a _prison’_ and how much it must suck for them to be able to marry whoever the fuck they want without having to lift a goddamn finger.” He shakes his head, like he’s trying to dislodge that idea, since it’s sticking in his brain like a nasty parasite. He opens his mouth, but all that comes out is a noise like he’s about to vomit.

“Well, hey,” Jace says, nudging Alec’s elbow again, “no one’s gotta fight the Clave for that anymore, huh?” He smiles. “You guys took care of that.”

Alec’s face feels warm, and he can’t tell if it’s just the thrum of all this alcohol, or if he’s starting to blush. Either way, he rolls his eyes as spectacularly as possible to cover it. “You _need_ to stop acting like we did that by ourselves. Like it was just me and Magnus alone against the entire Clave. It was… it was a lot more complicated than that.”

Jace makes a dismissive sound. “You pick the weirdest shit to be modest about.” He takes a long swig of beer. “You _still_ brag about doing more pushups than me that _one time_ like, a thousand years ago. But helping shadowhunters finally be able to marry anybody - downworlders, mundanes, any gender, all of it - then it’s all, ‘oh _no,_ ’” he whines in a high-pitched voice, “‘I didn’t do _anything,_ it was all everybody else, I wasn’t even there.’ I'm not saying you should take credit for the whole thing, but you can _at least_ admit that you, like, _participated._ At least.”

“I don’t sound like that,” Alec says with as much dignity as possible. “And I did _so many_ more pushups than you. Kicked your ass.”

Jace does a weird groan-laugh hybrid. “Yeah, and it hasn’t happened since. Total fluke.”

“Only ‘cause you won’t have a rematch. You know you’d have no chance.” Alec snorts. “I do my daily workout with a five-year-old on my back. I’d _destroy_ you.”

Jace sniffs and squares his shoulders. “And that’s an unfair advantage. I don’t have a five-year-old to train with. Wouldn’t be fair at all.”

Alec starts to laugh, and he fights himself as hard as he can to make sure it stays a normal, _adult_ laugh-

But it morphs into a stupid little giggle almost instantly. Fuck.

Jace starts to take a drink, but he stops himself, making a strangled noise into the bottle. “Mm, hey, that’s it. That’s your, I don’t know, silver lining?” He gestures, though it’s not clear what he thinks he’s gesturing to. “If you didn’t have to deal with all the Clave shit, and you could have gotten married right away, you wouldn’t have had anyone to be a ring bearer.”

Fuck it. Alec giggles, and lets it be as giggly as possible. “Or a flower boy. Max couldn’t walk yet.”

Jace points at him excitedly. “Exactly. Just imagine how pissed he’d be if he grew up and found out you had this big-ass wedding and he _didn’t_ get to walk down aisle. Having to sit with all the other guests, not getting _any_ attention. And Rafe, not getting to be ring bearer. Not even there at _all._ Not even invited to his future parents’ wedding. So rude.”

It’s not like it’s a new thought. Hell, he and Magnus have had this exact same conversation. But Alec smiles again anyway, because why not? He bites down on his straw, but doesn’t actually drink. “Still kinda sucks though,” he says between his clenched teeth. “This weekend could have been our five-year anniversary. And it’s just the bachelor parties.”

“Hm.” Jace leans his elbows on the bar, resting his chin on the back of one hand. “But this way, you get to have _two_ five-year anniversaries. The one two years ago, and the one in five years.”

Alec snorts, almost choking on his drink. “You’re just, like, _infuriatingly_ optimistic tonight. You usually get all weepy when you’re drunk. The fuck’s going on?”

“Ahhhh,” Jace shrugs with his whole goddamn body. The smile on his face gets particularly… gooey. “Dunno, it’s- I mean, come on, man. It’s a sentimental occasion. It’d be bad enough already, but with this being the _second_ time and all…” he makes a sound that’s partway between gibberish and a sigh. “I’m getting all nostalgic and shit.”

Alec slurps at the last few sips of his drink (and how did he go through it that quickly? Practically chugged the damn thing). “Fair enough.”

Jace is quiet for a minute, but not in an actual _quiet_ way. It’s that way he gets when he’s thinking about something so goddamn loudly that Alec can practically hear the white noise in his brain. Alec wants to tell him to fucking spit it out already… But he’s currently a little too busy making sure he gets every last drop out of his glass.

After another few moments, Jace laughs at whatever he was thinking about. “Remember when you thought you were in love with me?”

“Remember when you fucked your sister?” Alec snaps back immediately.

“Hey!” Jace punches Alec’s shoulder, because apparently he’s actually a thirteen-year-old instead of an adult. “Absolutely _no_ fucking happened until that was all… sorted out.”

“Oh, well. Then it’s not weird at _all.”_ Alec rolls his eyes and goes back to using the straw in his mouth to stir the ice at the bottom of his glass.

“What I _meant_ was,” Jace says firmly, slapping his hand down on the bar for emphasis, “remember when that was… y’know. All that shit from back then. When you were pissy and miserable all the fucking time. The dumpster hoodies and all the black and the bad hair and the fucking _look.”_

“What ‘look’?” Alec makes sure he sounds as offended as possible, because seriously, what the fuck? Can’t get any damn respect, even at his own party.

“ _The_ look. The,” Jace puts on a ridiculous grimace, sighs out heavily through his nose, and rolls his eyes as slowly and dramatically as possible. “The ‘I’m Alec Lightwood and everything in the world is _bothering_ me’ look.”

Alec can feel himself bristle, straightening his back with dignified outrage. “I don’t know if you _recall,_ Jace, but at the time, I’d spent a couple of decades dealing with shit that was a bit more than _bothersome-”_

“Yeah, that’s my point!” Jace leans in, hunching over the bar and keeping his focus down on his beer. “That’s just… how it was back then. And now, yeah.” He glances over at Alec, almost like he’s… is he embarrassed? “C’mon, you _know._ How shitty everything was back then. And then… now. I mean, fuck. Look at you.” He shakes his head with a little smile. “All grown up. You’re getting married - for real this time. You’ve got _kids._ You’ve got this whole… _thing_ going for you,” he gestures vaguely in Alec’s direction, sloppily waving at his face. “Your makeup and your fancy pink shirts and your…” he frowns, “whatever the fuck’s going on with your hair.” His eyes narrow. “What the fuck is going on with your hair?”

Whoa.

He’s-

 _Whoa_.

He’d better fucking watch himself.

Because Alec’s hair looks _amazing._ Hell, Alec’s everything looks amazing tonight. But his hair is special. He’s got little streaks of color, worked through the top of it, the way Magnus likes to do it. Mostly light pink (to match his shirt, a button-up with a lace collar), but there’s a little bit of golden blond here and there.

It’s beautiful. It’s perfect. He looks fucking fantastic.

So he’s not gonna take any shit from Jace.

Alec sits up as tall as he can, and raises his eyebrows. “I’ll have you know that my _son_ did my hair tonight.” He tilts his head to the side, and tries to make it look as imposing as possible (even though his head is starting to get _really_ fuzzy). “Go on, say something about his work. I dare you.”

Jace opens his mouth, but then just chokes on a sound of surprise. “Max did that?”

Alec nods, and fights the urge to reach up and run his fingers through it. He knows there’s way too much goop in it right now, and he’d just fuck it up and it’d be fucked for the rest of the night. “Well, he did the color, not the style.” And Magnus had helped, but still. It was Max’s idea. Alec’s giving full credit to Max.

Jace nods. “S’pretty damn impressive.” He chuckles and runs a hand across his mouth. “And it’s good to know that Magnus is teaching him the important stuff. Hair Magic.” He chuckles and starts to take a drink-

But he cuts himself off again. “But yeah, that’s what I’m saying. Now you’ve got magic hair and a _family_ and you’re all pretty and shit.” He sets down his beer. “And, y’know, just… happy. After all that time, it’s-”

“No, _no,_ nonono Jace. Stop.” Alec pushes away from the bar a bit, leaning back on his stool, like it’ll help to get actual physical distance from this conversation. “You can _not_ start getting all sappy on me. You gotta wait at least one more drink for that.” He may be getting tipsy way quicker than he should, but he’s still _significantly_ too sober to start having a serious conversation. About him. And feelings. And feelings about him.

Jace groans a bit, like he’s gonna protest… but he just gives a _very_ exaggerated shrug instead. “Fine. I won’t say anything.” He looks away, giving a suspicious amount of attention to the coaster under his beer. “I won’t say _anything_ about how happy I am for you,” he sighs in his most dramatic ‘emotional martyr’ tone. “How excited I am that you’re finally getting married. Getting married to Magnus…”

“Aaaghhhhhhh.”

Alec crumples like a piece of paper. Instantly. His head falls forward onto the bar, cushioned by his forearm.

Fuck.

_Fuck._

He’s not this drunk. He shouldn’t be defeated this easily. He’s very aware that he should have a bit more dignity than this.

But, still.

He hasn’t built up a tolerance to that idea yet. And hearing Jace just _say_ it like that, so casually, like it’s just… like it’s just a _thing._  A thingthat’s happening.

Actually happening.

Actually happening in _nine days-_

“Fuck,” Alec says emphatically to the lacquered wood. “Just… fucking _fuck.”_

He struggles back up, resting his elbows on the bar and holding his head in his hands. The room may not be spinning per se, but it’s definitely not sitting still like it’s supposed to.

Alec can hear Jace laughing at him, so he kicks out in his direction. He thinks he maybe gets decent shot at his shin. “You don’t _get_ it, Jace.” He feels his words start to get jumbled up before he can even say them, so he focuses _all_ his energy on not stuttering or slurring. “I’m actually, like- Jace, okay, it’s _really_ just… it’s…”

Wow. That was basically poetry.

Alec makes an inarticulate noise of frustration at his fucking brain for being so fucking useless. He presses his hands harder against the sides of his head. He’s positive that he can squeeze out some of this alcohol buzz and regain a bit of eloquence.

“It’s in nine days, Jace.”

Good. That’s a good starting point. But it’s also very much just a bland statement of fact.

“The wedding is in nine days. I’ve wanted… It’s been _seven years,_ and now it’s happening. In nine _days._ I’m gonna- fuck. Dammit.” He lets his hands drop down to his lap. But losing that support makes his head fall back so he’s left looking up at the ceiling. “I’m getting married in nine days.” His throat makes a weird little sound. “I’m getting married. By the Angel, I’m marrying Magnus. I’m _marrying_ Magnus Bane-”

“Whoa!” Jace reaches over and slaps Alec upside the head.

It’s fucking rude… but it’s enough to tip his head back down to a normal angle. So that’s something.

“Seriously dude,” Jace says, and it’s weirdly… stern. Severe. Mean? “If I can’t talk about you, you _definitely_ can’t talk about Magnus.” He shakes his head. “That’s not ‘Three Beers’ conversation. That’s, like, ‘Blackout Drunk; There’s No Alcohol Left’ conversation.”

Alec frowns.

That’s not fair.

He realizes it’s petty, but… fuck it.

He smacks Jace upside the head. Lightly. Just to make it even.

Jace looks absolutely _outraged,_ and shoves his elbow into Alec’s side.

Alec aims another kick at his shin, but Jace clearly gets the same idea, and they end up just uselessly smashing their feet together (which is _particularly_ unfair, since Jace’s giant boots are significantly sturdier and more painful than Alec’s pink dress shoes). Jace reaches up, like he’s gonna go for another head smack-

But Alec grabs his wrist before he gets anywhere near him. Which is actually pretty encouraging - his reflexes must not be too fucked up by how much he’s been drinking.

Then again, maybe this just means Jace’s reflexes have been fucked up even more than his.

Jace flails a little bit in his grip, shifting on his stool. But Alec pulls his arm down, and does _not_ let him get in any more hits. “The fuck is this?” He tries to sound composed, but his voice is a bit squeakier than he’d like. “It’s _my_ bachelor party, and my own damn parabatai just wants to fucking fight me.” He lets go and gently smacks Jace’s shoulder. “Ridiculous.”

Jace smacks his arm right back, but now he’s laughing. “C’mon, it’s been _years_ since we’ve kicked the shit out of each other. I’m just missing the good ol’ days.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘ _training_ ’,” Alec scoffs, trying (and failing) to repress a smile. “And since _neither_ of us live at the Institute anymore, it kinda makes sense. I mean, if you _want_ to come over to the loft just to fight me, I guess that’s fine-”

Jace laughs again, but louder this time - and slightly more sarcastic. “Yeah, ‘cause I definitely want to beat up a stay-at-home dad right in front of his kids. I’m sure they’d _love_ that.”

Alec starts to stutter out a protest at the implication that Jace would automatically beat him-

But he stops himself.

Because there’s something else he wants to protest _more._

“I actually prefer the term ‘Househusband’ now.” And…

Fuck.

Just saying it gives him these stupid fucking butterflies flying around in his stupid fucking chest and heating up his stupid fucking face.

And in case that wasn’t enough, he also grins like an idiot.

Jace hums, like one little laugh. “Nah, I’m not saying that yet. Not for nine more days.”

Alec giggles, because what else can he do?

Jace finally goes back to drinking his beer. Alec considers getting another drink, but he figures it’s not a terrible idea to give himself a break and at least wait a few minutes. After all, it’s not even midnight yet. There’s still a _lot_ of night ahead of them.

They’re quiet for a few moments. It’s the first time they’ve had any length of silence in a couple of hours, so it’s actually pretty nice. Alec swallows, and realizes that his throat is actually getting tired from talking this much, this loudly, this long.

It’s not like he and Jace don’t see each other often. They do. But it’s been a _long_ damn time since they got to just… talk. Hang out. Without any other purpose. Without some sort of important business that needs handling. Without Alec having to be constantly chasing down two kids. Nothing else. Just Alec and Jace. Just like it used to be.

He’d forgotten how nice it is.

And, yeah… the kinda-drunk buzz certainly isn’t _detracting_ from the niceness.

Alec takes a deep breath, and somehow feels it spin around in his head. And the weird feeling is enough to make him giggle at his own tipsiness. He hasn’t really been able to drink for quite a while. Not with the explicit intention of getting drunk, anyway. It’s been long enough that it actually feels a little unfamiliar. But in a nice way. Like… rediscovery. Rediscovering the fuzzy butterflies, and the warm face, and the stupid idiot giggling.

And just _thinking_ about giggling makes him giggle again.

He rests his arms on the bar, since it’s taking too much energy to keep himself upright otherwise.

And with nothing else for his hands to do, it only takes a few seconds for him to start fiddling with his rings.

It’s funny - for those first couple of years, Alec always wondered why Magnus would twist and tug at all of his rings for seemingly no reason, seemingly all the time. But then Alec got a ring of his own and he hasn’t stopped messing with it since.

And it only got worse when he got the second ring.

They’re both on the same finger, which is admittedly a little strange. But it seemed like the only logical thing to do. He’s been wearing the first one for five years now. Ever since they’d gotten back from their trip to Idris, where they’d arrived as boyfriends with only a cat to worry about, and returned as fiances with a _child._ They’d gotten rings for each other almost immediately. And now, Alec can’t stand to have his left ring finger be bare.

And six months ago, when the Clave had made their official ruling, and Alec had proposed to Magnus all over again, it had meant new rings. Alec had gotten one for Magnus purely as a gesture, because it’s not like their engagement hadn’t been _valid_ before that. It’s not like the first ring wasn’t good enough. He’d just wanted the gesture to be complete. Proposing again, exactly the way he'd wanted to the first time. And, this time, knowing that it was actually going to happen. Now. Not as a far-off hope.

(Alec had spent most of that day trying to convince Magnus to get married that same night, because he was so fucking done with waiting that he couldn’t make himself care about anything else. He’s still grateful that Magnus had remained so frustratingly level-headed and insisted that they’d _both_ spent all those years wanting a much bigger, nicer wedding than they could plan in three hours.)

Which had left them with two engagement rings each. Alec honestly doesn’t know what he’s going to do when he gets an actual _wedding ring_ too. Maybe he’ll have to spread them out to his other fingers. Or maybe he’ll get a chain for the engagement rings. Wear them as a necklace.

Hm. That’s…

Yeah. That’s a pretty good idea. He likes that.

“Stop thinking so loud.”

Alec blinks a few times. His eyelids are heavy. “Hm?”

Jace is doing that weird face that somehow looks halfway between a smirk and a frown. “You’ve got a stupid smile, you won’t stop touching your rings, and you’ve been _giggling_ under your breath for like, two solid minutes.” He quirks his head to the side. “It’s fucking _disgusting._ ”

Alec wants to argue, or smack him again, or something.

But that all sounds like too much fucking work. And work sounds fucking awful.

So he deflects instead. “Y’gonna buy me another drink or what?”

Jace laughs. “Yeah, ‘cause getting you drunk will make you _less_ giggly and annoying.”

“Says the guy who’s practically sitting in my lap,” Alec snarks right back, glancing down at the distinct _lack_ of personal space between them. “You’re like a cuddly little leech.”

Jace sniffs. “Well if you’re gonna be like that, you can pay for your own damn drinks.”

Alec elbows him in the side. Lightly.

Jace makes a quietly angry noise, but doesn’t retaliate, or move away. So that’s basically a stalemate.

They’re quiet again as Jace finishes his beer and Alec stares at his empty glass with increasing levels of jealousy. “Seriously, Jace. Are you gonna make me order my next drink by myself?” He wrinkles his nose. “I think that’d be a huge failure of your Best Man duties.”

“I’ll get you another drink,” Jace says placatingly, somehow managing to worm his way even _further_ into Alec’s space. “If you say my bachelor party is better than Izzy’s.”

“I’ve already said that!”

“To me. Now you have to tell Izzy. Text her.”

Alec turns to look at him because he can’t be serious-

Nope.

With that face, he’s completely serious.

Jace shrugs, like _Alec_ is the one who’s being unreasonable. “It’s a simple text. It’ll take two seconds. Say this is a better party and you love me more than her.”

Alec doesn’t know why he chooses this particular moment to indulge his stubborn side… but whatever the reason is, he puts his metaphorical foot down. “Fine. I’ll order my own drink.”

“Then you’re paying for it too.”

“Oh come _on!”_

But Jace’s face is still just as serious.

Alec stares him down for a few moments, working his jaw.

Jace stares right back.

Alec grimaces, sighs out his nose, and rolls his eyes. “I fucking hate you.” He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans to get his phone. “Both of you. You’re _adults._ This competitive bullshit should have died out a decade ago.” He types out the message, sends it, and holds up the phone for Jace to read it.

_jace’s party is so much better than yours and he’s a wonderful brother and i love him more than you_

Jace laughs triumphantly and smacks his hand down on the bar. And he looks around, trying to find the bartender.

Alec quickly sends another message while Jace isn’t looking.

_(lies. sent under duress, jace holding my drinks hostage. please forgive me)_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magnus's bachelor party ends up spanning three different countries. It was supposed to be four, but their attempts to sneak him into Peru were unsuccessful.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All these weeks, hell, all these _months_ that he’s spent worrying. Nervous. Uncertain. Wondering when it would be the right time. Wondering how he’d know.  
>  And now, he just… knows. It’s easy.  
> It’s always so easy with Magnus.

Luke and Jocelyn’s wedding is pretty great.

Which is good, since things before the wedding are less-than-spectacular for Alec.

Getting dressed is weirdly… difficult. Putting on the formal clothes, knowing he’s going to a wedding. And even though it’s not the same, and it’s a black suit, and there’s no trace of gold, and everything is so different, it still feels… uncomfortably familiar.

It’s a different day. A different suit. A different wedding.

But tucking a white shirt into his pants, and carefully folding a stiff collar down over his tie, and slipping into a jacket that feels so constricting even though it fits just fine…

This wedding is completely different. But getting dressed for it brings back the exact same anxiety, doubt, and sickening dread as his-

Well. He doesn’t like thinking of it as ‘his’ wedding. ‘The’ wedding, maybe. The wedding that wasn’t.

It’s different. It’s all different now.

It’s what he tells himself. Repeatedly. All afternoon. When he gets dressed. When he makes sure his hair looks acceptable. When Isabelle drags him into her bedroom to re-do his hair and re-tie his tie, because apparently he can’t do anything right.

It’s all different now.

It’s a different wedding. Between two people who love each other. Two people who want to get married. He doesn’t even have to _think_ about what he’d almost done, because this is so fucking different. This wedding is nothing like that wedding.

He starts to grasp that a little better when they actually get to the venue. It’s not at the Institute. It’s outside, under the fanciest goddamn tent Alec’s ever seen. And it’s set up with tables, not rows of chairs. Everything looks soft and warm and _subtle._ The Institute had been so formal and imposing and stifling and terrifying. This is… this is nice.

He’s not sure why he’s there. Realizing the intensity of the seating arrangements and seeing all the little name cards with table numbers on them… he’s completely fucking lost. He doesn’t know how he even got invited. He’s always just been… vaguely aware that he’s supposed to be here. Did Luke invite Magnus, and Alec is his plus one? Did Jocelyn invite him because he’s friends with Clary? Did he get invited at all? Maybe he just assumed he was invited because everyone else has been talking about it for so long. Maybe he’s not actually supposed to be here.

Things get easier once he figures out where he’s supposed to sit (next to Isabelle, which he really should have been able to guess), and they wander in to find their table-

Magnus is already there.

And Alec can breathe again.

It’s easier to breathe around him. It’s always been that way. Alec feels his shoulders relax a little. The panic clawing at his chest disappears.

Because Magnus is here, and he’s smiling. And if he’s smiling at him, Alec must be doing something right.

It’s kinda late for a wedding - at least, as far as Alec can tell, since he doesn’t actually know a damn thing about what’s ‘normal’ for a wedding. Alec’s pretty sure that the odd time is for Simon’s benefit (he and Clary are basically the only people in the wedding party). But the post-sunset setting also means that when Alec glances at the table across the aisle from them, he sees Raphael Santiago.

But that's… not…

That can’t be… right. Can it? Alec doesn’t have any reason to think that the relationship between the vampires and the werewolves has suddenly improved at all. But for some reason, the head of the New York vampire clan is casually sipping a glass of wine at a werewolf’s wedding. It doesn’t make any sense.

Unless.

Alec presses his lips together.

Unless it has anything to do with the fact that Simon is walking over to Raphael’s table. Simon has been spending a lot of time with Raphael lately.

Simon has also been spending a lot of time with Isabelle.

Which means Isabelle has been spending some time with Raphael.

Honestly, Alec doesn’t have a fucking clue about what’s going on there. And frankly, he doesn’t have much interest in finding out, seeing as it involves his baby sister, and he _knows_ that if he asks about it she’ll give him a much more _descriptive_ answer than he could survive hearing.

A few minutes later, Simon goes back to his seat next to Clary, right at the front. Mangus and Izzy spend a bit of time exchanging very thorough and detailed compliments about each other’s outfits. Jace eventually shows up, right as everything is settling into that instinctive hush that happens in any crowd when something’s about to get started. Everyone’s here. It’s a beautiful night, and a beautiful space. There’s a palpable buzz of excitement. A good thing is happening, and it’s obvious that people are happy about it.

Music starts playing, and then it all blurs together.

It’s a lovely ceremony. Probably. Alec doesn’t know what constitutes a lovely wedding. But since no one bursts in right before the vows, and neither of the people getting married back out at the last second, it’s definitely the best wedding Alec’s ever seen.

It’s not really… traditional. Or, it’s a weird blend of traditions. Luke and Jocelyn grew up in nephilim society, with those ideas and expectations, but neither of them are Shadowhunters anymore (Jocelyn may still be willing to fight, but from what Clary’s been saying, she has _no_ interest in re-joining this world. And Alec thinks that’s a pretty understandable decision, particularly now that she’s marrying a downworlder, something that wouldn’t even be legal for a Shadowhunter). So while a lot of the details look familiar, none of the _rituals_ are there. No runes, no Silent Brothers, nothing complicated or intricate. Just spoken vows, and rings. It’s…

It’s nice. Alec watches the ceremony, and it’s nice.

Alec watches the ceremony…

And he pays attention. He really does. It’s not long, or drawn-out. It’s short. Simple. And he’s focused on it.

He pays attention. Because it’s nice. How happy they look. The way they’re looking at each other, the whole time, minute after minute, never looking away. The excitement, and the… relief, maybe? Gratitude? That this is finally happening? Maybe even a bit of disbelief. They’re both so sure, and calm, and steady. Clary’s been making a poor attempt to choke back tears since she started walking down the aisle, and even Simon looks a bit misty (do vampires cry blood, or is that just particularly dramatic mundane lore? It’d certainly ruin the mood), but Luke and Jocelyn are both so…

Certain.

Alec glances around. There’s so many people here. It might be on the small side for something like a wedding, but still. It’s a crowd. All these people who know them. Family, friends, even people like Alec - who’s just Jocelyn’s daughter’s friend, and Luke’s work acquaintance. There are so many people, and the two of them are up there, on display, with this whole crowd focused on nothing but them.

And they’re still so certain. Using words like ‘love’ and ‘always’ and making such grand, beautiful promises to each other. With everyone watching. With everyone knowing. And…

And Alec becomes _so_ aware of Magnus’s hand, resting warm on his thigh. His thumb rubbing in small circles every now and then. A small, soft spark of magic, like a little secret between them.

Alec’s paying attention the wedding. He is. He’s definitely paying attention to the ceremony, to Jocelyn and Luke. He’s definitely not imagining what it would be like to be the one standing up there. Well, technically, he _knows_ what it’s like to be up there. But now he’s picturing it differently. He’s picturing standing in front of a crowd like this, saying these things, making these vows-

With Magnus.

Letting everyone know, making sure everyone knows exactly how much he loves Magnus. Getting to say it in front of everyone, so no one could possibly have any doubts. Getting to tell Magnus that he’s not gonna stop loving him, getting to promise to be with him for the rest of his life. The ritual and the symbols and the promises and the _certainty-_

Magnus’s hand moves. Just shifts a tiny bit, fingers curling for a moment before splaying out again.

Alec takes a sharp breath. He blinks. The wedding comes back into focus.

Jocelyn and Luke’s wedding. That’s who’s up there. That’s who’s doing this.

What-

What the _fuck?_

What the fuck was that?

Alec was just…

No.

He wasn’t.

He absolutely wasn’t.

He absolutely was _not_ just picturing marrying Magnus.

He was not just thinking that he wants to _marry_ the man that he’s been dating for _five months._

Because that’s insane. That’s fucking insane. Even for Shadowhunters (who tend to adhere to the policy of ‘marry first, ask questions later’), that’s fucking insane. And if it’s fucking insane for a Shadowhunter to think that…

Then thinking it about someone like _Magnus_ is… Alec doesn’t even have words for how stupid it is. Because for Magnus, not only has it been a measly five months - which is _nothing_ to him - it’s been five months with Alec. By now, Magnus must have a _very_ deep understanding of the fact that he can…

Fuck. He can do so much better.

Just five months. Less than half a year. With a stuttering, anxious, useless little Shadowhunter who’s literally never been even remotely good enough for him.

And, even more than that…

Magnus has never been married. Alec knows he’s had relationships that lasted _decades._ He’s pretty sure at least one lasted an entire mortal lifetime. That’s not… small. That’s not a casual, ‘just dating’ type of relationship. He’s spent decades loving the same person.

And he’s never married anyone.

Alec’s heard about some of these people. The good ones. The ones Magnus loved so much, he _still_ talks about them with so much fondness, even after hundreds of years. And if he never wanted to marry any of them, then…

What chance does Alec have?

Mercifully, the end of the ceremony is enough to make Alec’s brain shut the fuck up for a few minutes. Because then it’s basically an _attack_ of a celebration. The wedding party disappears for a while, but in their absence, there’s drinks and appetizers (‘hors d’oeuvres’ Magnus corrects for the dozenth time, at which point Alec starts calling everything ‘little snackies’ just to be difficult), and some quiet music starts up, and everyone starts… mingling.

Alec doesn’t do well with mingling.

Luckily, Jace doesn’t do well with mingling either. So they end up staying rooted to their seats while everyone else disappears into a sea of small talk.

Everything keeps getting faster and faster. The ceremony seemed to go by quickly enough, but now everything’s basically speeding into a blur. The wedding party comes back, there’s food and cake, the focus switches to the big dance floor at the back of the tent, Luke and Jocelyn dance together, then Luke dances with Clary and Jocelyn dances with Simon-

And then it all fucking _explodes._

It didn’t really seem like a rowdy crowd, but once the ‘wedding’ dances are over and everyone is welcomed onto the dance floor and a song with an obnoxious bass line gets blasted into the tent… it’s chaos.

Well, that's an exaggeration. But still. As far as Alec is concerned, this basically just turned from a nice dinner into a nightclub.

Magnus has taken Alec out to a club before. And apparently he’d been satisfied by the amount of time he’d spent trying to drag Alec onto the dance floor (to no avail), because now he doesn’t even ask. He just gives Alec a soft, warm kiss on the cheek, and disappears into the dancing crowd with Isabelle on his arm. Alec’s oddly… grateful. That it’s not a problem. That it’s not a ‘thing’. Magnus wants to dance, Alec doesn’t, and that’s fine.

The reception continues. Alec wanders around until he finds another glass of champagne. He talks to people as they take their breaks from dancing. Jace, then Izzy, then Jace and Clary, then Luke (which goes surprisingly well, considering that Luke and Alec haven’t really had many  _non-_ business talks before, and any conversation is basically a game of Russian Roulette for Alec. But Luke is easy to talk to, and he’s unsurprisingly in a pretty great mood. His cool, happy brand of relaxation ends up being infectious), then Magnus, and…

Hm. It’s nice to have a few moments alone with Magnus. They haven’t had that yet tonight. Well, they’re _really_ not ‘alone’, but they’re the only ones at the table, so that still counts.

Of course, just his fucking luck, it barely lasts two minutes before Jace and Izzy and Clary and Simon _all_ decide to swoop in and fill up the rest of the seats around their table. And the nice moment is thoroughly obliterated.

It’s probably two or three songs later when Alec hears it. He’s been vaguely paying attention to the music over whatever conversation is happening around him, and this time, he hears it. It takes a second, but eventually…

 _One-_ two-three, _one-_ two-three, _one-_ two-three…

Finally.

Alec looks over to Magnus.

And then to the dance floor.

And he raises his eyebrows.

There’s a brief, _wonderful_ moment where Magnus’s eyes light up, and Alec can swear he sees the tiniest hint of gold in them-

But then it’s gone. And Magnus replaces his smile with a look of exaggerated confusion. “Hm?”

Oh, come on.

Alec grits his teeth, trying to make it clear that he _knows_ what Magnus is doing. And he nods toward the dance floor, one little jerky movement of his head, trying not to look like too much of an idiot.

Magnus just frowns, and somehow manages to look even _more_ confused and _less_ sincere. “Yes? Do you need something, Alec?”

For _fuck’s_ sake.

Magnus is lucky that Alec has been waiting for this, because otherwise he would not give in to such petty teasing.

But he _has_ been waiting for this. He wants this. And he clearly has no other choice.

So he stands up, doing his best to ignore how awkwardly loud his chair sounds against the floor. He pointedly _refuses_ to look at anyone else at the table as he holds out his hand to Magnus.

“May I have this dance?”

He says it with the perfect blend of eagerness and bitter sarcasm.

Magnus smirks, far too pleased with himself, but Alec feels a spark when their hands touch. “What a gentleman,” Magnus says, with just a _hint_ of teasing.

Even though Alec is doing his best to not look at anyone else, he still manages to catch a brief glimpse of Jace and Isabelle as he walks with Magnus to the dance floor. And their expressions of obvious shock and disbelief are actually… kinda nice.

And it’s even better for Alec, knowing how _stunned_ they must look when Alec finds them a spot on the floor, and starts waltzing.

Because he knows what he’s doing. He’s dancing. He’s actually, really doing an actual, real dance. In public. In front of people. And - probably just as surprising for him as it is for them - he’s good at it.

Well, maybe not ‘good’. But he doesn’t fuck it up, which is good enough for him.

“Darling.”

Alec looks up. “Wh-”

Oh.

He’s been staring at his own feet. He’s probably supposed to be looking at Magnus instead.

But looking at Magnus right now is…

Alec smiles.

It’s unusual.

Magnus is wearing heels tonight. Alec knows that he owns a few pairs, but he’s never actually seen him wear them before. These aren’t even very tall ones, but still, they’re enough.

Enough to make them the _exact_ same height.

It’s not like it’s that big of a difference. But the slight change is enough to surprise him every time he sees it. Because Magnus is just… right there. Not like he _isn’t_ there usually, but now he’s…

Magnus’s lips are so goddamn close to his. Without having to tilt their heads at all. Without having to do anything. Especially now, with Magnus’s hand in his, and their arms slowly slipping further and further down each other’s backs, and their lips _so close…_

“My eyes are up here, Alexander.”

Fuck.

How long has he been staring at Magnus’s mouth?

“Right. There- It was ju- um. Right.” Alec clears his throat.

Magnus laughs, and gives Alec’s hand a little squeeze.

It’s different, doing this on a crowded dance floor instead of an empty loft. When Magnus was teaching him, they moved in huge, sweeping patterns. If they did that here they’d probably kill someone. So it’s smaller. They still spin a bit, but it feels much more contained.

Alec is also painfully aware that this isn’t a goddamn ballroom. This isn’t classical music. It’s a pop song. Everyone else on the floor is paired off and doing that swaying, barely-moving thing.

And Alec and Magnus are off to the side _waltzing._

But he… doesn’t care.

Actually, he…

He likes it. It’s nice.

He loves it.

Magnus is so close to him. He has Magnus in his arms and they’re moving together and Magnus looks _so_ beautiful in his fancy blue suit (if it’s actually a suit? There are a lot of… pieces involved that Alec’s never seen on a suit before) and they’re looking at each other and they’re just… together.

In front of all these people.

Not even that. It’s not just people, it’s people they _know._ It’s not a restaurant or a theatre or a park or a club where they’re surrounded by strangers. Where Alec doesn’t have to worry about who specifically is seeing them together, because no one who sees them knows who he is.

This is… everyone. His siblings, his friends, Magnus’s friends. Between the two of them, they probably know literally every person here. People who know them are seeing them dance together.

And Alec loves it. He doesn’t even know why.

Well, maybe he has an idea. Maybe it has something to do with how Magnus is moving in closer to him, wrapping his arm even tighter around Alec’s waist. And he’s smiling. He’s smiling at Alec.

And everyone else can see that.

It’s like… there are witnesses. Alec almost laughs at how stupid that thought is, but. It’s true. Alec still doesn’t understand this, most of the time. He has no idea why someone like Magnus would want someone like him. And even if dancing in front of all these people doesn’t help him understand any better, it’s still… proof. Alec’s not crazy. He’s not imagining this. He’s not pretending that Magnus wants him.

Magnus wants him.

Magnus _does_ want him.

And now, all these people are seeing that.

Magnus spins them around once, a tight little circle that’s just twirly enough to make Alec laugh. The song goes on, probably for a few more minutes. And they keep dancing. They don’t really say anything. They’re just looking at each other. Alec tries to think of any other time in his life that he’s been able to look at someone this long, and not feel awkward. Not want to look away. Never want to look away.

Alec barely notices the song wind down to a finish. He’s vaguely aware that it’s fading out, but his feet don’t get the memo. He just keeps on waltzing, right into the first few notes of the next song-

Which is loud and upbeat and not at _all_ something that can be waltzed to.

Alec starts to pull back, move away, get the fuck out of there as everyone around them starts transitioning back into the jumpy, grindy kind of dancing - because he _definitely_ can’t be in the middle of that.

But Magnus doesn’t let go. He keeps his arm exactly where it is, keeps his fingers wrapped tight around Alec’s hand. Alec panics for a second, not wanting to have the ‘no club dancing’ conversation _again…_

Magnus pulls him in, even closer than they were before. Alec’s reminded again of their lack of height difference as Magnus presses his cheek against Alec’s. Tucks their faces together. And keeps holding him. Swaying a bit, even though it doesn’t match the beat of the music.

Everything in Alec’s body turns to mush. It’s instantaneous. It’s sad, really. They’re barely even moving, and Alec can’t catch his fucking breath.

And it’s silly. It’s almost kinda stupid, even. It was strange enough for them to be in the corner waltzing to a pop song. Now they’re in the corner slow-dancing to a fast song, completely ignoring the beat, completely ignoring everyone else dancing around them. By the Angel, it’s silly. But in a… nice way. A cheesy way. It’s sweet, and romantic, and everyone else can fuck off so they can have their moment.

Magnus moves his face a bit, so his cheek rubs against Alec’s. It’s a tiny movement.

And it’s too much. Alec was already hanging on by a thread. This is _way_ more than he can handle. They’re together and Magnus looks so beautiful and they’re in front of all these people and they just watched a wedding and now they’re dancing and that was all too much to begin with but now Magnus is nuzzling against his face and making a happy little sound in the back of his throat and it’s _too much_ Alec is _suffocating_ like this.

Alec tilts his chin, just enough to bring his mouth a little closer to Magnus’s ear. “I love you.”

And saying it feels like relief. He’s not as overwhelmed anymore.

Magnus breathes in, and it’s a sharp sound against Alec’s cheek. His hand tightens a little in Alec’s grip.

Alec pulls away. Not far enough to put any distance between them, but enough for him to see Magnus’s face. Because he’s pretty sure that Magnus-

Yeah. He’s got that look. Eyes a little wide, lips barely parted, eyebrows tilted the tiniest bit.

Surprised.

He looks surprised.

It’s subtler than it was when Alec first said it last week (that first time, Magnus had actually looked stunned), but it’s still there. It’s been there every single time Alec has said it.

And it doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t make any fucking sense for Magnus to look like this, and all Alec wants to do is make it stop. To tell Magnus how much he loves him, as many times as he needs to, for as long as he needs to, until Magnus stops looking _surprised_ to hear it.

It’s like there’s a pull in Alec’s chest. Something he couldn’t fight even if he wanted to - though he absolutely doesn’t. It’s insistent. Like he doesn’t have a choice. He _needs_ to kiss Magnus. Right now. It’s urgent. Necessary. It feels like he might explode if he doesn’t.

And since they’re already so close, it’s easy. Alec doesn’t have to tilt his face down at all. Just a little bit to one side.

Magnus makes a noise against Alec’s lips. Maybe there’s a bit of that same surprise in it, but mostly, he sounds happy. He gently disentangles their hands, and brings his up to rest on Alec’s neck. His fingers trail up into Alec’s hair. And for a few moments, it’s perfect. But then…  

Alec was kinda hoping they’d get a cliched ‘everything else in the room fades away’ sort of moment. But their romantic luck has apparently run out. Because he’s _immensely_ aware of the loud music, the moving noises of the crowd dancing around them, and the-

Huh.

The tinge of deja vu.

Because here they are, all dressed up, kissing in front of all these people, at a wedding.

It’s different. It’s _very_ different. It’s a reception for someone else’s wedding. They’re not the focus. He doubts anyone is even looking at them.

But… still. It’s similar enough.

To be weird.

There’s some nostalgia to it? Maybe? Recreating the scenario of their first kiss (to an extent), months later, aware of how much… further they are now. But, more than that…

Yeah. It’s weird.

Alec suddenly feels like all eyes are on them. To make things plummet from ‘weird’ to ‘horrible’, he gets the sickening feeling that his parents are a few feet away, watching him, like they were the first time (even though they’re not here - they weren’t invited, and they’ve made it clear that they wouldn’t have come even if they were). Because only Alec Lightwood is awkward enough to initiate a big, romantic first kiss with his _parents_ staring at him the whole time.

And now Alec feels like an asshole for ruining such a nice moment by thinking about this sort of bullshit, right in the middle of a _really_ nice kiss, what the fucking _fuck_ is his problem?

Magnus’s lips move a bit. But not like they’re supposed to. Not like he’s trying to deepen the kiss or anything. It’s like he’s-

Smiling.

Alec can feel tension gather in Magnus’s shoulders. He’s smiling against Alec’s lips, but it feels like he’s fighting it. Like he’s trying not to laugh.

Okay, so maybe Alec’s not the only one feeling the weirdness.

Magnus breaks away, ducking his head so their foreheads are pressed together. “Sorry,” he sputters out between little giggles, “it’s just-”

“Yeah,” Alec smiles, “I know.”

Magnus just laughs harder, still trying to hide his face, almost like he’s embarrassed. “At least this time, you waited until _after_ the actual ceremony.” His hand slips down to Alec’s shoulder. “Though I suppose that might be a bit disappointing for you. It’s much less _dramatic_ like this-” he laughs again, but fights so hard against it that he-

He actually _snorts_ a little.

Fuck.

It’s so cute, Alec wants to die.

“Yeah, go ahead, make fun of my kissing.” Alec finally lets go of Magnus, and takes a teasingly small step backward. “I’m gonna go hang out with people who are _nice_ to me.” He takes another step, turning back toward the tables.

“No! No no no, my love, _darling,_ ” Magnus grabs his hand before he can get away and pulls him back, still choking on giggles. “Just wait.”

And he calms down. Still with a wide smile, but contained to just a few chuckles.

He looks at Alec’s face. So intently that it’s almost enough to make Alec blush. He keeps his eyes locked on Alec’s lips. And after a moment, there’s a clear, bright flash of gold.

Alec swallows. “What?”

Magnus’s tongue peeks out for a second, touching his lower lip before disappearing again. “There’s…” He lifts a hand, and cradles it against Alec’s jaw. And slowly…

By the Angel.

Magnus brushes his thumb across Alec’s lips. So slowly. So gently. With a spark of warmth under his skin. Magic.

He might as well have dropped a lit match right into Alec’s gut.

And it takes every single ounce of restraint Alec has to keep himself from parting his lips and taking Magnus’s thumb into his mouth.

Because they’re not alone. They’re in public. They’re right in the middle of a crowd. They’re surrounded by all these people and Alec absolutely _cannot_ start sucking on his boyfriend’s fingers right in front of everyone. He can’t. He can’t. He _can’t_ but fucking _hell_ it’s so goddamn _tempting-_

Magnus takes his hand away. And he flicks it, like he’s shaking off water. But what comes off instead is one bright blue spark.

And Magnus just smiles. Calmly. Politely. Like nothing happened. “Gloss,” he says plainly, like that’s an adequate explanation-

Oh. Duh.

Alec must have gotten some of Magnus’s lipgloss on his mouth when he kissed him. He hadn’t even noticed. “Right.” Magnus didn’t want him to walk around for the rest of the night with secondhand gloss on his lips. Alec takes a breath to thank him, but…

He can’t. Because… well, would that have… been so bad? Wearing a bit of lipgloss? Having something like that, something pretty, right on his lips, in front of all these people-

Alec clears his throat.

“Thanks.”

And it’s done. The moment is broken. Whatever miniature two-person world they’d just had between them is replaced with the giant wedding, and they can’t ignore it anymore.

It’s… it’s expected. Things pick up again. Back into a party. It’s a party.

The moment they get back to the table, Isabelle grabs Alec, like she’s staking a claim on him. And she drags him right back to the dance floor, because “Honestly, Alec, you can’t suddenly reveal that you know how to dance and _not_ dance with your baby sister!”

(And Alec’s not sure he’s ever felt a burst of pride quite as satisfying as when Izzy teasingly says “You know, I don’t mind the waltz, but I’ve always preferred the foxtrot.” And he gets to say “Alright. I can do that one too.”)

He gets through two and a half songs with Izzy before she’ll let him go back to the table - and even then, Alec’s pretty sure she only lets him go because Simon shows up to take his place.

Alec ends up wandering a bit after that. Sipping another glass of champagne. Talking to people - actually _talking_ to people, what the fuck is with that? Having… fun. Actually having fun at this big-ass party.

He loses Magnus in the hubbub for a while. It’s probably half an hour later when he finally sees him again.

He’s sitting at a table next to Raphael. Their chairs are turned out so they’re facing the dance floor. And they’re…

Alec’s face twists up.

Magnus and Raphael are sitting next to each other, and while they’re clearly talking to each other, they’re not actually acknowledging each other at all. They’re each holding a glass of wine (or at least Magnus is, because now that he thinks about it- fucking hell. _Duh._ Alec suddenly gets slapped in the face with the realization that this entire night, Raphael’s glass hasn’t contained _wine_ at all). Their posture is identical - they’re even crossing their legs the same way. They’re just sitting there, sipping their drinks, looking out at everyone else while they talk. They look-

They look like those two old muppets who sit in the back of theatres and make fun of everyone. It’s kind of unsettling.

The wedding keeps going. And going. And going. How long are weddings supposed to last? It’s probably just because it didn’t start until after sundown, but it _really_ feels like weddings aren’t supposed to go this late.

It’s fun, though. It’s not like Alec’s upset that he’s still there, hour after hour. It’s just…

He’s probably imagining it.

But by the end of the night, it really feels like he and Magnus are pretty much a heartbeat away from tearing each other’s clothes off.

He’s not sure what it is. If it’s the fact that they both look nice for once (instead of Magnus looking gorgeous and Alec looking like he slept in a dumpster). Or the leftover romantic high of dancing together in front of everyone. Or Magnus’s extra glasses of wine making him extra friendly. Or if it’s some sort of inherent… _vibe,_ because they’re at a wedding. The whole point of this whole fucking night is romance and love and being all mushy about it. Maybe it’s just the atmosphere.

But whatever it is, it’s working. It’s working very well.

It’s not like it’s horrible. They’re not super obvious about it - at least, Alec _hopes_ they’re not. It’s just a few glances that last a little too long. It’s the way Magnus’s hand ends up on Alec’s thigh every single time they get within an inch of each other. It’s the fact that Alec can’t stop blushing, even when nothing’s happening, and his tongue keeps darting across his lips, like he can still taste Magnus’s lipgloss, even though he can’t. It’s the way that Magnus keeps _winking_ at him when no one else is looking, like they’re strangers flirting in a bar.

It’s _agony._

And Alec can only assume that it’s the reason why, when they finally get back to Magnus’s loft, they only get as far as kicking off their shoes before Magnus practically slams him up against the nearest pillar.

It’s such a _relief._

And that-

That’s something. Isn’t it? Having his boyfriend grab him by the lapels and immediately start kissing him stupid, the first thing Alec feels is relief. All of the blood in his body instantly drops downward, and his heart speeds up like he’s running a marathon, but he just feels…

Calm.

Calmer than he’s felt all night.

They’ve been building up to this for a while - hell, they’ve been building up to this since the damn wedding started - and it doesn’t seem like either of them are very interested in drawing it out any more. It’s so sudden, like a switch being flicked. One moment, they’re walking through the door, taking off their shoes, settling in. And the next, it’s… everything. Lips, teeth, hands, everywhere at once. Magnus fumbles with the buttons on Alec’s jacket until he can finally push it open and slide his hands around to Alec’s back. Alec wants to reciprocate and make some sort of attempt at getting Magnus out of his clothes…

But Magnus’s clothes are so fucking _complicated_ that Alec doesn’t even know where to start. There’s all these buttons and a scarf-thing in a fancy knot around his neck and seemingly infinite layers of different kinds of cloth and just so many fucking buttons, why are there so many buttons? He can’t even tell which ones are functional.

Magnus starts loosening Alec’s tie, which effectively distracts him from Magnus’s impossible-to-remove outfit, because godfucking _dammit_ Alec wants to get out of this suit. He’s been miserable in it all night. Yeah, he wants to get Magnus naked as quickly as possible, but he’s willing to delay it a bit if it means taking off his own clothes so he can stop feeling like he wants to crawl out of his skin.

It seems as though Magnus has different priorities than Alec. Because once he loosens Alec’s tie and undoes the first two buttons on Alec’s shirt, he stops. And gives all his attention back to kissing him. Like he-

He was just making sure Alec can breathe. That he’s comfortable.

Alec whimpers into Magnus’s mouth, and lets himself pretend it’s just because of the kiss.

Magnus parts his lips, and Alec takes the hint. He spares a moment to run his tongue across Magnus’s lower lip (and he tells himself that it has nothing to do with the little trace of lipgloss that’s left there), then licks deep into his mouth, and-

He smiles.

Alec hates red wine. He always has. He doesn’t understand how anyone can enjoy it enough to drink an entire glass. He hates it.

But, _fuck,_ he loves the taste of it in Magnus’s mouth.

Whiskey, gin, and red wine. All the types of alcohol that Alec absolutely _refuses_ to drink in any capacity. All the flavors he hates tasting in a drink, he loves tasting on Magnus’s tongue.

After a few seconds, Magnus pulls back, just a little bit. It’s subtle enough that Alec assumes he’s only trying to find a different angle, or to catch his breath for a moment. That he’ll be kissing Alec again in a second or two.

But then he pulls away a little further. Enough to actually put some space between their faces - though there’s still a distinct _lack_ of space between the rest of their bodies.

And he… looks. At Alec. One of his hands is on Alec’s chest. And he brings the other up to Alec’s face. Brushes the hair off of Alec’s forehead. Rubs his thumb along Alec’s cheekbone. Trails his fingers down Alec’s jaw. Brings them up toward Alec’s lips, but never quite gets there…

And they’re still looking at each other.

Alec can feel his heartbeat in every inch of his body. He holds Magnus’s gaze, watches the flickers of gold get longer and longer until the glamour fades away altogether. Alec smiles, because Magnus’s eyes are sparkling even brighter than the glitter in his eyeshadow.

Magnus’s hand keeps wandering over Alec’s face. Slow. And warm. And he keeps his eyes locked on Alec’s.

And he gets that smile. That little one that Alec loves so much.

It’s getting harder to breathe again. Because his heart is beating too damn hard. But it’s not bad. It’s just because he’s… overwhelmed. Magnus is smiling at him, and touching his face. And Alec loves him. He loves him so much. He didn’t think he could…

He didn’t think he could.

Magnus closes his eyes. Starts to move back in.

Alec’s so grateful he thinks he could cry. He didn’t think he could survive seeing Magnus look at him like that any longer.

This kiss is slow. Gentle. 

Alec pulls Magnus as close as he can. Holds him tight.

And Magnus keeps kissing him.

It shouldn’t feel like this. They’re barely doing anything. Alec’s still pressed up against this pillar, which should be uncomfortable. And it’s just a kiss. Compared to the kissing they were doing a few moments ago, this should be _nothing._

But Alec doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this. Ever.

This time, when Magnus breaks away, he doesn’t actually go anywhere. He just starts a new trail of kisses, from the corner of Alec’s mouth, to his jaw, to his neck.

Alec tips his head back to give him more room, and tries to breathe. It’s not working very well for him.

Magnus’s lips brush down past Alec’s open collar before he starts moving back up. Up Alec’s throat. He stops, and presses his nose to the spot behind Alec’s ear. He takes a deep breath, and it comes out in a low, shaky sigh. “God, I love you.”

Alec bites his lip, but it doesn’t stop the quiet whine in his throat. He can’t do this. He’s not strong enough. His limbs are getting weaker by the moment and it’s too hard to breathe and his heart isn’t working, but everything about his body shutting down like this just feels _right._ Even as he’s melting into a puddle, he feels more calm than he’s felt in ages. He opens his mouth to tell Magnus how much he loves him-

He stops.

Because it’s not what he wants to say.

It’s…

Alec smiles, even though Magnus’s face is still tucked against his neck, and he can’t see him.

It shouldn’t be surprising.

And it’s not, really.

All these weeks, hell, all these _months_ that he’s spent worrying. Nervous. Uncertain. Wondering when it would be the right time. Wondering how he’d know.

And now, he just… knows. It’s easy.

It’s always so easy with Magnus.

Alec takes a steady breath.

“I want you to make love to me.”

Magnus tenses.

For a moment, nothing happens. They stay where they are, pressed together, breathing - but just barely.

Magnus breaks the stillness. He moves his face a tiny bit. Takes his mouth away from Alec’s neck. Rests his forehead lightly against the hinge of Alec’s jaw. “You mean-?”

“Yes,” Alec says instantly, because he doesn’t think he could handle hearing Magnus give it _any_ sort of description.

There’s stillness again. And silence.

It’s not exactly what Alec was expecting. He doesn’t really know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. This is… nothing.

Magnus’s hands slip down to Alec’s hips. But not in a suggestive way. Not like he’s really trying to touch him at all. Like it’s some sort of placeholder.

“Are you sure?”

That’s-

Shit.

“Yes?” Alec can’t quite keep the question out of his voice. Because he was completely sure. Right up until Magnus asked that. Now he’s not sure of anything. He didn’t think this would be a problem. But maybe…

Maybe there’s a reason Magnus has never brought this up. Shit. Fuck. _Shit._ This is just what Alec gets for wanting something. “Why? Is there…?” He doesn’t know how to finish. Doesn’t know what he’s supposed to ask.

Magnus pulls his face further away from Alec’s, which-

Dammit. It certainly doesn’t make Alec feel any better.

Magnus looks at him. _Really_ looks at him. His face is serious, but not severe. “You’ve never mentioned this before. I want to make sure.” His expression softens. It gets a little uncertain. “You’re not just saying this because I want to?”

Alec’s mouth opens, but it takes a second to make his voice work. “I didn’t know you want to.”

After a moment, tiny hint of a smile lifts one side of Magnus’s mouth. “I do.”

And…

And that’s it.

Magnus didn’t know Alec wants this.

Alec didn’t know Magnus wants this.

It’s funny. In a ridiculous, stupid sort of way. It’s enough to make Alec want to laugh. He can feel his mouth twist up, but he’s not quite ready to-

“Really?”

Magnus’s smile widens. Brightens. It’s so beautiful it makes Alec’s breath catch. Magnus slowly brings up his hands. Slowly cups Alec’s face between them. “Really.” And he brings their faces so close. So horribly, _horribly_ close. Their noses brush. Their lips are _almost_ touching. Magnus closes his eyes, and whispers, “I want to make love to you, Alexander.”

He’s kissing Alec before Alec has the chance to respond. All Alec can do is moan into Magnus’s mouth, loud and awkward and utterly helpless.

Because this is happening.

Alec’s legs jolt, like his knees are threatening to give out.

Magnus pulls Alec away from the pillar just far enough to loop his arms around his neck. His fingers tangle into Alec’s hair and-

“Ah, _Magnus-_ ”

He _tugs_ Alec’s hair. Hard, but not enough to be painful. Just enough to distract Alec from everything else he’s feeling for a moment (which is good, because at this rate, with Magnus _saying_ things like that, this could be over before it even starts).

It’s enough to snap Alec out of his shock. He’s no longer stunned by the awareness that this is going to happen.

Because this is _happening._

By the Angel.

Alec pushes himself away from the pillar. It makes them both stumble for a second, but Magnus recovers with the usual amount of grace.

And as soon as Alec is secure on his feet again, he reaches down. He bends his knees the tiniest bit, gets his hands on Magnus’s thighs-

Magnus catches on right as Alec starts to lift him. He laughs a little against Alec’s lips as he wraps his legs securely around Alec’s waist. But he doesn’t stop kissing him.

Which ends up being a bit of a problem, as it makes it difficult for Alec to actually _see_ where he’s going as he carries Magnus toward the bedroom.

“Mags, ah- _mmrf-_ Mags, I can’t-”

He keeps trying to twist his face away from Magnus’s far enough to get a clear view of what’s in front of them, but Magnus is flat-out _refusing_ to let Alec take his lips away. Alec settles for giving Magnus a few half-assed kisses while keeping his eyes open and his head turned as far as possible. He knows he’s not putting any effort into reciprocating Magnus’s kissing, so he makes a few extra noises to make up for it. It’s ridiculous. It’s fucking ridiculous.

And it’s fucking hilarious.

By the time Alec is kicking open the bedroom door, they’re both basically just laughing against each other’s mouths.

Alec feels one of Magnus’s hands move against his back, and the room is filled with dim light from the nightstand lamp. It’s a soft, subtle glow, but it’s enough for them to really see each other. It’s perfect.

Magnus is still giggling when he finally gives up on the kisses. But he doesn’t try to move. He seems perfectly content to be hoisted up in Alec’s arms, next to the bed, making no effort to actually get on it. “Shall I?” he asks, a little breathless, giving a pointed glance downward.

Alec knows that offer well by now (and it’s kinda crazy to realize that). He looks down at his clothes. “Please.”

Magnus smirks. “The fast way, or the _slow_ way?”

“Fast. Please.” Alec shakes his head. “I hate this suit, Mags. I’m sorry if you like it, but I fucking hate it. I’ve been miserable in it all night. Please make it go away. All of it.”

Magnus makes a noise of somewhat-exaggerated sympathy as he snaps his fingers.

And Alec’s clothes disappear.

Even though it’s happened plenty of times, it’s still a little… bizarre. The flicker of heat that hits him all over, then vanishes and is instantly replaced by the cold of the air on his exposed skin. It’s like whiplash. But in times like this, it’s _very_ convenient. And Alec loves that Magnus has little shortcuts like this.

He also loves that Magnus knows that when Alec says ‘all of it’, he doesn’t _really_ mean all of it. He still has his boxers. Magnus didn’t take those. Magnus always lets Alec make that decision, and take them off himself. When he’s comfortable enough to do it.

It’s stupid. It’s a stupid hangup.

But Magnus doesn’t care.

So Alec is left in nothing but his ratty boxers. Holding up Magnus, who’s wearing _way_ too much clothing.

And not just in the ‘Alec wants him to be naked’ kind of way. In the ‘literally what is all this clothing and why is there so much of it?’ way. Alec kinda wants to ask Magnus to poof it all away so he doesn’t have to go through the trouble of figuring it out…

But he doesn’t.

Because by now, Alec knows exactly how much Magnus _loves_ having Alec undress him.

Alec may not understand why, but he definitely knows better than to ask for a _reason_ for Magnus’s preferences. Alec’s well aware that sometimes, you just like what you like.

He quickly realizes that in their current position, there’s no fucking way he can get _any_ of Magnus’s clothes off. And Magnus certainly isn’t making any effort to get down.

Well, fine then.

Alec kneels on the corner of the bed, actively trying to ignore the way Magnus keeps kissing and nipping at his ear, because _by the Angel,_ Alec’s gonna send them both toppling to the floor if his knees get any weaker. His legs already feel like they’re roughly the same consistency as jello.

It takes a bit of maneuvering, but Alec manages to get one hand planted firmly on the mattress. And slowly, he lowers Magnus down. Actually, literally lays him out on the bed.

Because they’re about to make love.

There’s something almost… _idyllic_ about it. Laying Magnus down. Stretching out over the length of his body. Looking at him. Nothing else. Just this.

Alec smiles. It’s nice. Nice enough that he almost wants… to laugh. At how nice this is. At how happy he is.

But then he goes to start undressing Magnus-

And the nice mood is killed. Dead.

Where does he even… “How do I…?” He touches the knot in the light blue scarf around Magnus’s neck. But the knot is so goddamn fucking _complicated_ he genuinely can’t tell what it’s doing. It looks like the type of knot a mermaid would use to hog-tie a sailor.

Magnus just smirks up at him, like it’s somehow a matter of _pride_ that his clothes are fancy enough to be a cockblock. “Here.”

He guides Alec through it. Through the artistic knot, through which ones of the _dozens_ of buttons on his jacket are actually keeping it closed, through unlacing the front of the silk undershirt so Alec can tug it off over his head.

It’s far from dignified. Mostly, it’s silly.

But in a way, that’s nice too. Because they’re both laughing.

Alec gathers up the literal _pile_ of upper-half garments and hurls them onto the floor-

They disappear in a flash of blue before they can even hit the carpet. And Alec hears the distinct sound of hangers rustling through the open closet door.

Alec rolls his eyes, because, “Seriously?”

Magnus shrugs one shoulder, and dammit, it shouldn’t be so _cute._ “No point in letting anything get _wrinkled,_ darling.” He smirks, and snaps his fingers-

And his jewelry disappears. Well, most of it. He leaves his earrings. He almost always does. He only gets rid of the stuff that might get in the way, or get uncomfortable. It’s the one thing he prefers to take off himself (since they’ve wasted enough time with Alec fumbling around tiny clasps with his clumsy fingers, and apparently it’s not worth trying anymore). His necklaces, his bracelets, his watch, and…

And his rings. His rings are gone.

Alec swallows.

He should have expected it, but still…

Magnus doesn’t always take off his rings. Alec feels heat crawl up his neck just at the memory of them, of how they feel when Magnus touches him, little spots of smooth coolness on his chest, his hips, his-

Magnus likes keeping his rings on. The only times he takes them off are when he knows he’s going to be… using his fingers.

Alec closes his eyes, forcing himself through a few deep breaths. They’ve barely even started. He needs to get himself under control. This was _his_ idea, after all. How pathetic would it be for him to ask for this and then not even be able to handle it?

Besides, this is still familiar. This is still almost… _normal._ Usual. Expected. Nothing is new yet. He’s had plenty of practice undressing Magnus.

And now that he’s made his way through the complicated half of Magnus’s clothes, he knows _exactly_ what he’s doing. He knows exactly how to work his way around the large, ridiculously ornate buckle on Magnus’s belt. And he knows that the thick leather is confining enough that he actually has to pull the belt all the way out of the loops if he wants to be able to take off Magnus’s pants (which is challenging enough, considering that they’re almost always skin-tight, or leather, or both). These ones are particularly tight, but the fabric is soft and smooth and seems like it should slide off easily enough.

His hand pauses on Magnus’s zipper.

This is one of his favorite parts.

He doesn’t know why, but it is.

Because he never knows what Magnus is wearing under his pants. And it’s always…

Exciting.

Sometimes Alec tries to imagine what his underwear will look like. If it’ll be lacy, or patterned, or shiny (he’s even seen a pair that was actually metallic). How much it’ll actually _cover._ If there’ll be frills or bows or ribbons. If it’ll be sheer, maybe enough for him to see right through it…

He doesn’t know why he cares. But he does. Just thinking about it is making his heart speed up a little. In an uneven, faltering sort of pattern.

He thinks it’ll probably be blue. Everything else Magnus had worn tonight was some shade of blue. Maybe it’ll be light, like his scarf. Or dark like the sapphires in his earrings. Alec bites his lip as he undoes Magnus’s fly and carefully starts tugging down his pants-

Fu-

Fuck.

That is _not_ underwear.

It’s not the right reaction. It is a _horrible_ reaction. But Alec’s first instinct is to laugh. He barely manages to choke it down. But he makes a weird, strangled sound anyway.

It’s not okay to react like this. It is _not_ okay to see his boyfriend’s dick and immediately start laughing.

But it’s not his fault. He’s just caught off guard. _Way_ off guard. Fuck, he _knows_ Magnus doesn’t always wear underwear, but still. This time, for whatever reason, he was really expecting underwear. And instead, there’s just sudden, surprising dick. Usually, when Magnus doesn’t wear it, Alec finds out in a more _subtle_ manner. Not this abrupt, and up-close.

He can’t help himself. “Nice underwear.” He wants to look up at Magnus’s face, but he’s afraid he’ll blush, or start laughing.

Magnus makes a smug little noise. “Thank you. It’s one of my favorites.”

Alec _does_ laugh at that, but he balances it out by rolling his eyes.

Magnus’s pants prove to be a lot more difficult to remove than Alec anticipated. Magnus lifts up his hips to help, but it still takes a good deal of tugging and shimmying and inarticulate noises of frustration and amusement before Magnus finally pulls his feet free. Alec’s a little breathless and giggly by the time he gathers up the pants and belt.

He doesn’t bother throwing them this time. He just holds them out toward Magnus, and raises an eyebrow as sarcastically as possible.

Magnus smirks at him. He gives a dismissive wave with one hand, and the clothes disappear. And that leaves them…

Alec has to take another moment to steady himself. To take stock of where they are.

They’re in bed together. Magnus is spread out on his back, propped up on his elbows, completely naked, with Alec kneeling between his spread legs. It’s hardly a _new_ situation for them, but it’s still enough to make Alec’s head get all fuzzy when he really _realizes_ it.

And now there’s so much possibility. Yeah, they’ve already decided the eventual outcome, but it’s clearly gonna be a while before they get to… _that._ For now, Alec has this beautiful man in front of him, calmly looking up at him, waiting. Waiting for Alec to do… something. Anything. Trusting him.

It’s too much.

Alec ducks down, needing to get his mouth on literally _any_ part of Magnus’s body, whatever his lips happen to touch first.

In this position, it ends up being Magnus’s stomach.

Almost right away, Alec feels Magnus’s hand run through his hair as he starts kissing and licking and clutching at Magnus’s stomach, his hips, that one extra-sensitive spot just to the left of where his belly button would be.

Alec shifts further down the bed, so he’s on his hands and knees instead of folded over himself. He decidedly _doesn’t_ let himself lay out enough to grind against the mattress, because seriously, they’ve barely done _anything,_ and he doesn’t want to have to acknowledge that he’s already embarrassingly hard in his boxers.

Magnus, on the other hand, is just starting to get hard. That’s how it usually goes; he’s got much better impulse control than Alec. He takes longer to get going, and then he lasts way longer than Alec could even hope to (though Alec still isn’t sure if that’s because of his experience, or if he somehow uses his magic to delay his orgasms. Alec still hasn’t worked up the courage to ask that particular question, but he will. Eventually).

Well, if Magnus isn’t hard yet, it’d probably be a good opportunity to…

Alec’s given Magnus a fair amount of blowjobs by now. Enough to be comfortable with it, anyway. But he’s still very aware of the fact that what he can do is _nothing_ compared to what Magnus can do. And yeah, that’s because he’s had a few centuries to practice fighting off his gag reflex, while Alec’s only had a couple months.

But that’s not enough of an excuse for Alec to accept being second-best at something. So right now, it’s the perfect chance. To kiss his way down Magnus’s stomach. To get close enough to make his intention clear. To wait a moment, for any sign of Magnus telling him to stop… And then to slowly, carefully take Magnus into his mouth. All the way into his mouth. Until his lips are pressed to Magnus’s pelvis.

“Ah- _Alexander,_ you-” Magnus cuts himself off with a gasp.

Alec doesn’t open his eyes, but he can feel Magnus’s hips move, like he’s arching his back. Magnus’s fingers curl against Alec’s head, but not so he’s gripping Alec’s hair, just so his nails scratch _hard_ against Alec’s scalp. It’s a tiny sting of pain, and it’s amazing.

This, at least, is still familiar. The taste of Magnus in his mouth. The little twitches in Magnus’s hips and stomach. The sounds Magnus makes. The recognition of which sounds mean that Alec is _really_ doing something right. The feeling of Magnus slowly getting harder and harder against his tongue.

It’s familiar, and it’s _good._ Not necessarily for its own sake (Alec wouldn’t really call it ‘enjoyable’ to try not to gag, or to strain his jaw and neck until he gets sore, or to constantly have to worry about his teeth), but for the… result. That’s what’s good. Hell, that’s _amazing._ Magnus is always particularly… responsive when Alec does this. And he’s plenty responsive anyway, so that’s really saying something. It doesn’t take any time at all for him to start whimpering and groaning and saying some embarrassingly filthy things about Alec’s mouth.

This is why Alec likes doing this. Getting to hear Magnus. Knowing that Magnus feels good. Knowing that he’s making Magnus feel good. Knowing that he can do something good for him. Knowing he’s good enough. Getting to hear all of Magnus’s broken sounds, getting to feel Magnus writhe on the bed, and eventually, getting to feel Magnus come. Right into his mouth, right on his tongue…

But that just reminds him that this time isn’t completely familiar. There’s a difference. A significant difference. There’s that little nagging voice in the back of Alec’s mind. The one that keeps repeating, over and over again, that this is _new._ This isn’t like any of the dozens of times he’s done this before. Because this isn’t… it. This is just one part of it. He’s not doing this to get Magnus off. And as seconds pass and minutes pass and Alec loses track of time, he becomes so, _so_ aware of the fact that he’s getting Magnus hard specifically so he… so he can…

Alec can’t breathe.

He pulls away, just for a moment. Just so he can gasp in a few times and moan out a few more times until he feels like he isn’t choking on his own tongue.

Once he can convince himself that he’s not dying, he moves back in again. He quickly runs his tongue across his lips as he ducks his head-

Magnus’s finger touches his chin. Lightly. He just barely brushes the back of one finger under Alec’s jaw. And he pushes up, just a little bit.

Alec takes the hint, and lifts his face.  

Magnus is looking down at him. His eyes are so bright it’s like they’re glowing. He’s breathing a little heavy. And his lower lip looks a little red, like he’s been biting it.

And Alec can’t keep himself from smiling. Because he did that.

Magnus presses his finger a little harder to the underside of Alec’s chin. His skin is warm, and getting warmer, like he might let out a crackle of magic at any second. It’s insistent, like he’s trying to move Alec up toward him.

Well, Alec’s certainly not going to protest.

But, first…

Alec can’t quite bring himself to maintain eye contact as he starts pushing down his boxers. Being totally naked, above the covers, with the light on, completely exposed… that’s still pretty new. New enough that he’s not quite comfortable enough to _see_ Magnus seeing him. Just knowing that Magnus is watching him is enough to make him blush from his chest to the tips of his ears.

It doesn’t help that it’s not exactly an _elegant_ process, shoving and kicking and essentially wriggling himself out of his underwear. It’s nothing like when he gets to take off Magnus’s underwear (when Magnus bothers to wear any), carefully slipping delicate, beautiful fabric down his legs, kissing and touching him from his thighs down to his painted toes.

But after only a little bit of awkward struggling, Alec shakes his boxers off of his foot and kicks them down to the floor.

There’s that first, strange moment. When he feels the air on _all_ of him, like a chill, even though it isn’t cold in here. He fights the instinct to cover himself, hide himself, make sure Magnus can’t see. Luckily, that instinct gets easier and easier to ignore every time he does this. And in a handful of seconds, he’s… fine. Kneeling on the bed, his hands on either side of Magnus’s hips… completely naked. With the little knot of anxiety twisting up his gut because he feels so exposed while Magnus is _right here,_ right underneath him, looking at him.

He glances up.

Magnus is looking at him, with that little smile. He’s looking at Alec’s face.

Just his face.

Something warm spreads from Alec’s gut, up to his chest, like it's trying to crawl out of him. He swallows, because he’s afraid the rush of feeling might come out as a _truly_ embarrassing noise if he doesn’t.

He’s too far away. They’re too far apart. He loves Magnus too much for him to be able to handle this much _space_ between them.

Alec moves up the bed, needing to fix this godawful distance - and it’s okay. Because Magnus is already reaching for him, already wrapping his arms around Alec’s shoulders so he can pull him down.

Alec has every intention to kiss Magnus as soon as his face is close enough. His lips are already parted. He’s missed kissing him. He’s so ready to kiss him.

But he can’t. He tries to, but first-

“By the _Angel,_ Magnus- _oh…_ ”

It’s completely overwhelming. It always is. When Alec first lays out over Magnus and presses down against him, presses their bodies together. Naked. It’s too good to be real, it’s better than anything Alec had ever thought was possible. Just… so much _skin,_ feeling every inch of Magnus against every inch of him, with nothing between them, anywhere. It’s intoxicating. It makes him lightheaded. It makes every part of him _ache._

And it means that he needs a few moments. Before he can get himself in line. He needs a few moments to gasp against the side of Magnus’s face. To run his hand down Magnus’s side (and feel constant, smooth skin, not broken by any fabric or covering). To… move. Move against Magnus, in little shifts and thrusts that make his mind go absolutely blank with pleasure.

And it’s not like Magnus is making it any easier for him to get a hold of himself. Not with the way he winds his legs around Alec’s, and ghosts his fingers down the shape of Alec’s spine… all the way down… until he’s smoothing his hand over Alec’s ass…

It shocks Alec’s brain back into function.

Alec frames Magnus's face in his hands and kisses him, hard and fast and probably a little more desperate than necessary.

But judging by the way Magnus moans into his mouth, Alec thinks it’s a pretty good idea. After all, he knows how to kiss Magnus. He’s been kissing Magnus for months now. Hell, he’s been kissing Magnus since before he was even _dating_ Magnus. He can’t even fathom how much time he’s spent kissing Magnus.

Which is why it’s so easy for him to lose track of time like this. Because it’s so nice, and it’s so easy, and it’s so _good._ Having Magnus bite at his lips and breathe out his name and scratch his back and grip his ass, Alec knows he could come just from this. Fuck, he _has_ come just from this. Many times.

He breaks away, but only when his lips feel so raw that the pain is outweighing the pleasure. But he doesn’t make it very far. He gets distracted, almost instantly.

Because with Magnus lying beneath him like this, how could he _not?_

It’s dizzying for a moment, trying to take in how beautiful he is. With his makeup starting to smear around his eyes, and his lips and chin glistening with spit, a little pink from friction, and his perfect hairstyle slowly getting mussed against the pillow.

And for what must be the millionth time tonight, Alec’s struck with… confusion. Thinking back on these last months, he doesn’t understand. How he’s somehow ended up in this place. In this bed. In love. With Magnus Bane - someone so wonderful and beautiful and so many other words that Alec doesn’t have - loving him, and about to make love to him.

This doesn’t make any sense. He doesn’t deserve this.

Magnus must not be picking up on Alec’s brief existential crisis, because he doesn’t seem too thrilled with the sudden pause in what they’re doing. His legs tighten around Alec’s, and he slowly rolls his hips up against him, and if _that_ weren’t enough, he tilts his head back. Like a display. An offer.

Fuck.

It’s not fair, really, that all Magnus has to do is slightly expose his neck, and Alec immediately loses his entire goddamn mind.

Magnus’s skin tastes like sweat. Alec’s not sure if it’s from what they're doing, or if it’s leftover from all the dancing he did at the wedding. The taste of it is one of those little details that Alec had found so weird when they first started doing this, but he absolutely _loves_ now. He runs his tongue in a sloppy pattern along Magnus’s throat, sometimes scraping a bit with his teeth just to make Magnus whine and tip his head back even further. It’s random, and messy, and completely uncoordinated, until-

Alec stops. Right at the center of Magnus’s neck. His mouth is open, pressed to Magnus’s skin. And right under his tongue, he feels the shape of Magnus’s Adam's apple.

Alec really shouldn’t care about Magnus’s Adam's apple as much as he does. At least, not anymore.

It made sense at the start. Because it’s where his eye was always drawn. Back when it was still so overwhelming just to look at Magnus for any length of time. Back when looking was all he was allowed to do… and, really, it still felt like he wasn’t even supposed to do that. But it was always where he looked. When he couldn’t hold Magnus’s gaze because it made him feel like he’d start blushing. When he couldn’t look at Magnus’s lips, because they were too tempting. When it didn’t feel like it was safe to look at anything else, he always looked at his Adam's apple.

Of course, his intentions had completely backfired, and it ended up being more enticing to Alec than any other part of Magnus’s body.

And in a lot of ways… it still is. Watching it move when he speaks. Seeing it framed by a high collar. Being drawn to it when Magnus brushes his hand across his throat to fiddle with one of his necklaces…

It used to be bad. A sign of danger, an indication that Alec had been staring too long. A temptation. Forbidden.

And now he’s flattening his tongue against it, _feeling_ it move as Magnus swallows and lets out a deep sigh. It’s almost like… a rebellion. Or maybe a victory. A reminder that Magnus used to be so horribly off-limits, someone Alec could never have, someone it was stupid for Alec to even _want._

And he’s here. Lying naked beneath him. Moaning as Alec kisses and licks his Adam's apple for what seems like an eternity.

But it’s probably only a minute or two, really. Because Magnus keeps winding his legs higher and higher up Alec’s waist, and he rolls his hips more and more frequently until he’s pretty much _constantly_ grinding up against him, and Alec can’t fucking _breathe,_ much less control his body enough to do _anything_ except grab Magnus’s thigh to encourage him to keep going.

It’s too good. Fuck, it’s too good, nothing should feel this good. It’s…

It’s actually…

It’s starting to get a little uncomfortable.

They’ve been in this position for a while, with Alec holding himself up over Magnus, trying to make sure he doesn’t totally smother him, holding up his head enough to kiss him. And… yeah. He’s getting a little sore. His neck hurts.

Hopefully this wasn’t like, the _perfect_ position for Magnus. Because Alec uses his grip on Magnus’s thigh to pull him over, so they’re lying on their sides. He’s immediately flooded with relief as his head lands on one of the throw pillows and gives his neck a rest (even though he knows the pattern of the embroidered fabric is going to press into his cheek).

It takes a second for Magnus to adjust, twining their legs together, his hand pressed to Alec’s back to keep them as close together as possible.

But he’s not kissing him.

Why isn’t he kissing him?

Alec tries to move in-

Magnus stops him. Touches a finger to Alec’s lips before he can-

Oh.

Alec smirks. Actually smirks.

The pad of Magnus’s finger is resting on his lower lip. Alec touches it with his tongue, as lightly as possible.

Magnus closes his eyes, and whimpers.

_Fuck._

Alec parts his lips a little bit, just enough so Magnus’s finger slips between them. And he moves his tongue, the smallest movement he can manage. Trying to tease. And-

By the Angel, he can feel Magnus’s cock twitch against his hip. Just from that. Just from _barely_ having his finger in Alec’s mouth.

Alec loves doing this. Holy fuck, Alec _loves_ doing this.

Though, obviously, nowhere near as much as Magnus loves it.

Alec doesn’t even remember when he noticed. When he figured it out. But it’s been fucking amazing since the first time. Because it’s so easy. All he has to do is gently lick at Magnus’s fingers and Magnus is completely _gone._ It shouldn’t…

It shouldn’t be this easy. Alec shouldn’t be able to bring him this much pleasure. Falling apart without a shred of dignity from the barest amount of contact is something that should happen to someone like _Alec,_ not Magnus. It almost feels like…

Cheating. Like some sort of shortcut. Alec should have to work harder than this. He shouldn’t be able to get _this_ kind of reaction, just by gently sucking Magnus’s finger a little further into his mouth-

“Oh, Alec, _angel…_ ” Magnus’s other hand slides down to Alec’s ass again, and-

A spark crackles on Alec’s tongue. Hot, and oddly sweet. Alec lets out a surprised little laugh around Magnus’s finger. It’s not like this hasn’t happened before, it just usually doesn’t happen quite this soon.

But it always happens. Alec’s not sure if it’s because Magnus _knows_ that Alec likes it, or if he genuinely can’t help it. If Alec is literally sucking magic right out of Magnus’s hand. But either way, Alec loves it.

Magnus gives a particularly passionate moan, and another spark hits Alec’s tongue. It’s like eating Pop Rocks (actually, it’s _so_ similar to eating Pop Rocks that Alec literally _can’t_ eat Pop Rocks without feeling the threat of getting a boner, just from sense memory).

By the time Magnus carefully starts to slip a second finger between Alec’s lips, the gentle teasing is done. Alec doesn’t know how he could possibly put any _more_ enthusiasm into what he’s doing. Fuck, he’s basically moaning as loud as Magnus at this point. But he’ll do anything to keep hearing Magnus make these noises, say these filthy things. To feel spark after spark of magic, feel the heat in his mouth that sends a shiver of pleasure down his spine each time. To keep that sweet taste on his tongue-

Magnus pulls his fingers free. Takes his hand away.

Alec’s first reaction is confusion, so he follows his hand, trying to get them back.

Magnus laughs, light and breathless. “Darling,” he places his hand on the back of Alec’s head, getting his fingers entirely out of reach, “it’d be rather counter-productive to get me too excited right now.” He sounds like he’s teasing, but the intensity of his gaze is entirely serious.

Alec’s mouth suddenly feels dry. “Oh. Ri- right.” It takes a second to really process what Magnus means, and when he does…

He smiles. Because that’s… that’s new. The idea that _Magnus_ is the one who’s worried about feeling too good. Afraid that he might come too soon. It feels weird for Alec to be on the other side of that particular problem.

And, beyond that… it’s kinda funny. That Magnus needed to say that when Alec was sucking on his _fingers,_ and not earlier when he was sucking on his cock. That he was fine with everything else that’s happened, but this is what gets him too close. What makes Alec feel a little spot of wetness on his hip.

It’s funny, but he’s certainly not going to laugh.

Besides, he barely has a moment to think about it before Magnus is rolling them over again, this time so he’s on top, which-

Oh, _fuck._

Alec’s so ready for this. To give up on taking initiative and lie back and let Magnus take over for a while. He instantly feels the tension drain out of his limbs, until his whole body feels like goo. Useless, powerless goo.

He loves feeling like goo.

Magnus kisses him (which is enough to make Alec whine frantically, since it feels like they haven’t kissed in ages), deep, and open-mouthed, and…

Alec wonders if Magnus can taste the leftover hint of his own magic on Alec’s tongue.

Huh. He’ll have to ask about that sometime.

But not right now.

Right now, Magnus is shifting, settling in over him so their legs slot together. So he has room to run his hand down Alec’s chest, scratching his fingers through Alec’s chest hair, stroking all the way down his stomach, giving his cock the barest _hint_ of a touch (though it’s still enough to make Alec arch up and curse under his breath), and then trailing his fingers… further down… further back…

_Finally._

Alec spreads his legs - because apparently he’s already reached the point of arousal where he’s past feeling any sense of shame. And he pushes his hips up a bit.

Because Magnus isn’t _doing_ anything. His fingers are almost - but not _quite_ where they should be, where Alec _needs_ them to be.

“Alec.”

Alec makes a strangled sound, because he can’t think of any words. Not a single damn word. He pushes his hips up more.

“Alec.”

This isn’t teasing, this is torture. He would beg, if he could just remember what the fucking words are-

Magnus nudges his nose against Alec’s cheek. “ _Alec._ ”

Oh, shit. Is he supposed to be paying attention?

Alec opens his eyes… and blinks a few times because looking up at Magnus’s face in the soft light is completely disorienting. He works his throat a bit. “Huh?” It’s not exactly eloquent, but it’s all he can manage.

Magnus looks-

Damn. Alec knows this look. He’s seen it before. A lot.

Magnus is about to ask for something. Something new. Whether it’s something he wants to do to Alec, or something he wants Alec to do to him, it’s the same look. Serious. Kind. Already trying to make it _so clear_ that Alec can give him an honest answer, even if it isn’t the answer he wants.

There’s a brief moment of panic where all Alec can do is wrack his brain to figure out what the fuck Magnus is about to ask him. After all, they’re already doing _this_ for the first time, and it's a pretty big deal. What else could there _be?_

Magnus keeps his fingers where they are, so infuriatingly _close._ “Alec, can I use my tongue?”

That’s… That’s so different from what Alec was expecting that the first response he can think of is literally ‘I don’t know, _can_ you?’ But then his brain starts working again and he realizes where Magnus fingers still are (or where they almost are, anyway), and he puts two and two together and-

Oh.

_Oh._

Use his tongue.

For…

 _In_ …?

Alec’s throat closes up. Instantly. Like he has some sort of allergic reaction to potential sexual acts.

This isn’t the first time Magnus has mentioned… this. He’s brought it up once before. A while ago. What feels like a _long_ while ago. Pretty soon after he’d first fingered Alec. But it wasn’t an outright question. It was something he’d brought up, like an option. He wasn’t actually offering it itself. He was offering for Alec to ask for it if he wanted it. Alec hadn’t even had to say no, he’d just… not asked for it. It wasn’t important enough for him to even really consider it.

But now, he’s considering it.

Except it’s not exactly _easy_ to try and make a decision like this with Magnus giving him this _look,_ this look that communicates all this love and respect and understanding - how is anyone supposed to deal with that? So he closes his eyes for a second.

And he tries to think about it.

It’d be nice, right? Alec loves having Magnus’s mouth literally everywhere else on his body, so in all probability he’d love it just as much there. And Magnus only asks for things that he _really_ wants, and in situations like this it’s pretty much Alec’s only goal in life to give Magnus absolutely anything and everything that he wants.

Except…

When he actually thinks about, actually thinks about it actually happening…

Actually pictures Magnus putting his face between Alec’s spread legs and putting his _mouth_ on Alec’s ass and using his tongue so he’d _taste_ him - Alec can’t wrap his head around why Magnus would possibly _want_ to do that. He can’t actually want to, can he? It doesn’t make any sense.

And, worse than that… He’d be just, down there. Alec would have to lie back and _watch_ Magnus, giving all that attention to that part of him. Being that… exposed. And what if it’s not good? What if something goes wrong, and Magnus doesn’t like it, and what if- oh, by the _Angel -_ what if something goes _really_ wrong, like Alec having to fart right while it's happening?

Fuck.

That is-

That is literally the worst thought that he’s ever had.

That must be the worst thought that _anyone_ has ever had in the entire history of the world.

He opens his eyes again, hoping that’ll be enough to keep him from ever having another thought again ever.

But that means he’s left looking at Magnus. And he knows his answer.

Alec bites the inside of his lip. “Uh… n-no, I don’t… think so. Not this time.” Dammit, he wishes he could sound even a _little_ bit more confident.

Magnus just smiles at him. Of course he does. Because somehow, Magnus always manages to look genuinely _happy_ when Alec says no to him.

He presses a kiss to Alec’s cheek. Lets it linger. “Alright, darling.”

There’s a brief burst of warmth between Alec’s legs, like residual heat from magic, as Magnus keeps moving his fingers-

And now, they’re covered in lube. Fuck. _Fuck._ Alec feels Magnus spread the wetness on his skin (warm, like always. Magnus always makes sure it’s warm before it touches Alec), as he finally, _finally_ gets one finger pressing right up to Alec’s asshole.

“Oh fuck, yeah Mags, please, _please-_ ”

It’s like a dam breaking. Alec can tell he’s still talking, but he loses track of what he’s saying. Probably just incoherent begging. Because all of a sudden he becomes _immensely_ aware of the fact that this night is going to end with Alec getting to feel what it’s like to have Magnus’s cock inside him after all these months of wanting it, and all night he’s had _nothing_ inside him, and now Magnus is finally going to fix that for him, and Alec doesn’t think he’s ever needed anything this badly in his life.

Magnus kisses Alec’s cheek again. “Hush, sweetheart,” (though Alec knows he absolutely does _not_ mean that, because he _loves_ hearing Alec beg for him, the rotten liar) “just relax. Relax for me.”

Alec wants to tell him to fuck off, or at the very least to shut up and stop being such a goddamn _tease,_ but in this case, he knows relaxing is the best option.

Still, easier said than done.

Strangely enough, Alec doesn’t really feel himself relax at all until Magnus starts carefully working a finger into him.

Because then, it’s like everything’s good again. It’s familiar. It’s such a strong feeling, but not enough to be overwhelming.

And, as always, it’s just so much _better_ than when he does this to himself. Infinitely better. Magnus just… _really_ knows what he’s doing.

And all Alec has to do is… feel it. Magnus is in control of this. Alec doesn’t have to worry about anything. Magnus’ll take care of it. Take care of him. Make sure he feels good.

“Mags, i’so good, feels _so_ good you’re so _good_ Mags-” Alec makes himself keep talking as Magnus adds a second finger, because he needs to let him know. Alec needs to tell him. Magnus is making him feel so good and Alec knows Magnus likes it when Alec tells him that, and Alec has to do _something_ to make Magnus feel good right now, even though it isn’t enough, it could never be enough-

Alec has no idea what he’s saying anymore. He knows he’s saying Magnus’s name a lot, and it feels like he’s saying ‘love’ just about every other word, but he doesn’t think he’s formed a coherent sentence in minutes.

And it doesn’t exactly help when Magnus starts kissing his cheek again, over and over, being just as careful and gentle with it as he’s being with his fingers. Alec completely loses the ability to speak as Magnus starts whispering against his face. Little words, here and there, between kisses. “Darling, my darling,” and “Alexander,” and “I love you so much.”

It’s like Alec’s starting to get dizzy. Just because he’s not used to feeling this… much. Magnus’s voice and his lips and his fingers and his naked body and the heat of his magic… How is Alec supposed to survive this?

He’s just getting lulled into that same sense of familiarity again when he gets another  _vivid_ reminder of why this time is different.

Because after a few minutes, Magnus kisses him, and slowly presses in a third finger.

This is new. This has never happened before. This is new and unfamiliar and _more_ and it stings and Alec can’t breathe.

Magnus breaks the kiss (probably because he can feel Alec desperately trying to gasp in some air), but keeps his face close. Keeps whispering such beautiful, _beautiful_ things.

And eventually, it doesn’t sting anymore. It feels the same as it always does, just more of it.

And this…

This still isn’t it.

Alec reaches up, slipping his hand under one of the pillows so Magnus can't see it. And even though he feels unbelievably stupid for doing it, he squeezes three of his fingers together. And he awkwardly tries to feel them with his pinky and thumb. Because he needs to know how much this is. He needs to have a better idea of what exactly is inside him right now, and he needs to… guess.

He needs to feel the size of his three fingers, and try to guess how much bigger Magnus’s cock will be. How much more.

It’s useless, obviously. With just one hand, he can’t really tell what he's feeling, and with everything _else_ that’s happening to him, it’s not like his brain can really process anything in the first place. He’s just writhing on the bed, pushing up against Magnus’s hand, making a string of obscene, inarticulate noises. If he had any sense of self-awareness right now, he’d be dying of shame. As it is, Magnus has pleasured all the shame right out of him, and he can’t give a fuck about anything but wanting more.

Then again, maybe more would be too much.

Luckily, right as Alec’s about to tell Magnus that he needs to stop if he doesn’t want Alec to come, Magnus stops on his own. And he pulls out his fingers.

No. No no no no that’s the exact _opposite_ of what Alec wants-

“Alexander.” Magnus touches Alec’s cheek (and his hand is dry, already cleaned off with magic). He’s got his Serious Face on again. “Do you want to use a condom?”

Oh.

Alec opens his mouth.

Huh.

He’s not sure if he’s ever felt this instantly wrong-footed before in his life. “I…” What’s he supposed to say to this? What’s the right answer? “I… don’t know?”

Magnus gives an admonishing little sigh. “Alec-”

“No, I mean I _really_ don’t know.” Alec tries not to frown (since it doesn’t exactly fit the mood), but he can’t quite stop himself. “I don’t know… what it’s like. Either way.” Since they know they don’t _have_ to use condoms with each other, they just… never have. With the stuff they’ve done, there never seemed to be a point. Alec has no experience with them.

But this is Magnus, and Magnus knows what he’s doing. Alec’s never been given a reason not to trust him.

Alec swallows. “You decide.” And then, since Magnus doesn’t usually take that for an answer, he adds, “Please?”

Magnus looks hesitant for a moment, like he might try to argue, and _fuck,_ Alec hopes he won’t argue…

Magnus smiles, small and lopsided, with only one side of his mouth. “Fine. If it’s up to me, I say no condom.” He smooths his hand up Alec’s cheek, so his fingers can comb through the hair behind his ear. “But if you change your mind, I’ll get one. Alright?”

Alec nods… only because he doesn’t have anything to say to that. He can’t really imagine disliking something about sex in such a specific way that it’d make him think ‘You know what would totally turn this around for me? A condom.’ How would he even be able to tell the difference?

Magnus shifts a little - and it’s enough to remind Alec of just how _badly_ he wants this, how ready he is, how he’s never been this nervous or excited about anything before-

“One more thing-”

Holy fuck, there’s something _else?_ How many discussions do they need to have before this happens? Shit, maybe they should have sat down and had a briefing before any of this started.

But Magnus still has that serious look on his face, so Alec does everything he can to force down his impatience. “What's that?”

Magnus’s fingers press a little harder to Alec’s scalp. Like he’s trying to hold him in place. Like he’s _really_ trying to be serious about this. “You have to promise me that if you’re uncomfortable, you’ll tell me right away.”

Alec furrows his eyebrows. “Why would-”

“ _Because,_ Alexander,” Magnus interrupts gently, “you have a very high tolerance for pain, and you _refuse_ to complain about anything if you think I’m enjoying it.”

That’s not-

Alec makes a little noise of protest, trying to think of some way to refute that.

But he gives up. Because, yeah. It’s basically accurate.

There’s a second where Magnus smirks at Alec’s lack of protest, but he replaces it with a genuine smile almost instantly. “A little bit of pain is normal. But if you’re absolutely _miserable,_ there’s obviously no point in continuing. If you don’t like it, _tell_ me. And we’ll stop.” The smirk comes back. “Understood?”

Warmth spreads across Alec’s chest, though he thinks that might be because his heart rate feels like it's just quadrupled. Still, he manages to smile. “Yeah.”

Magnus leans in to kiss him again, and Alec’s racing heart is reverberating so powerfully in his body that he wouldn’t be surprised if Magnus could feel it in his lips.

There’s some shifting, as Magnus settles between Alec’s legs, and gently nudges them further apart so Alec’s hips are tilted up a bit, and he moves his hand… Why is he moving his hand like that? Alec can feel it brushing against the inside of his thigh-

Holy fuck. He’s stroking himself. He must be spreading lube on his cock.

Holy _fuck._ This is happening. This is really happening. Month after month after _month_ of wanting this so badly and not being able to ask for it and not even knowing _why_ he wasn’t able to ask for it… and it’s happening.

Magnus lifts his face away, just the tiniest bit. Alec sees him glance down-

And he has to close his eyes. He can’t handle this. He’s gonna have a heart attack. He’s gonna pass out. He's gonna die.

He feels Magnus’s cock against him. Warm and wet with lube.

“Relax, love.”

Alec nods, but the stiffness of the movement makes it pretty obvious that he’s nothing but tension right now.

Magnus moves his cock a bit, a few gentle nudges.

Alec tries to breathe.

Magnus starts to push in. And it’s-

No.

It’s bad.

It’s really- it’s _really_ bad. Shit. It’s horrible.

“Stop! Stop stop, please, _stop._ ”

Magnus does stop, immediately. But he starts to pull back-

Alec clutches Magnus’s hips. He can’t make his voice work (his throat is too tight), but he needs to make Magnus stay where he is. Because everything in his body is closing up, tightening, screaming that Magnus needs to pull out, and Alec can just tell that if he does, this isn’t going to happen at all.

And he refuses to accept that. He’s wanted this for too long.

It’s just… it’s too much, why is it so much? It hurts and it’s overwhelming and it’s the only thing he can feel and for some reason his body won’t _let_ him have this, which is-

Which is so fucking _unfair._ His fucking horrible body already makes him feel like worthless shit almost every minute of his life. Why does it get to keep him from doing this? Something he wants? Something that he _knows_ he wants?

“Are you alright, darling?”

Alec would laugh if his lungs would let him. Magnus sounds so _calm._ Caring. Like he’s having some perfectly normal conversation, and not being desperately held in place with his dick less than an inch inside his boyfriend.

“Just-” Alec sucks in a breath through gritted teeth. “W-wait?” He tries to swallow, but his mouth is too dry.

“Of course,” Magnus says softly.

Alec breathes.

Alec _tries_ to breathe.

His eyes are squeezed shut so tightly it makes his head ache. He’s still gritting his teeth. His legs are shaking a bit.

But he’s going to have this. Godfuckingdammit, he fucking wants this, and he’s _going_ to fucking have it.

He breathes.

He breathes until the tension leaves his jaw, and it goes slack. He still can’t open his eyes, but he can breathe. At the very least, he can breathe.

He still can’t talk, though. So he can’t tell Magnus that he wants to keep going. That he’s okay. So he uses his hold on Magnus’s hips (which is _slightly_ less vice-like now, and hell, Alec hopes he didn’t leave any bruises), and tries to sort of… nudge him on.

Magnus’s hips move with his hands, and he pushes in that much further.

It hurts, but not… not horribly. It’s the same kind of sting he’s used to with fingers, just amplified. He’s felt this before, he’s just never felt quite this much of it. But that makes it… okay. Once he realizes that it’s not new. It’s just a little different.

He nudges Magnus’s hips again. And again, Magnus moves, exactly as much as Alec’s hands encourage him to.

So he’s…

_Fuck._

Alec is actually _pulling_ Magnus further and further into him.

Apparently his throat is working again, because a truly _stupid_ sound comes out of it. Something high-pitched and whiny and maybe a tiny bit pained, but mostly just stunned.

Once Alec’s breathing evens out enough for him to stop gasping, he realizes that he’s not the only one having troubles with it. He can hear Magnus above him, taking long, shaking breaths. Like this is affecting him just as much as it’s affecting Alec.

And that’s probably… true.

Alec makes another weird sound.

Because this _is_ affecting Magnus just as much. There’s an… evenness to this. It’s not like when Magnus uses his fingers inside him, or when either of them are using their mouths, or when they touch each other. This is happening to _both_ of them. The same way.

Well, they may not be feeling the same thing. But they’re feeling it together. As Alec pulls Magnus into him, and feels more and more of Magnus’s cock, Magnus is feeling his cock that much further inside Alec. It’s not one of them pleasuring the other in turn, it’s both of them. Being pleasured by the same thing. The togetherness, the… _connection,_ it’s almost too much for Alec to handle.

Although, right now, basically _everything_ is too much for Alec to handle. It still hurts. It still feels like too much. And it's not stopping. He’s not letting it stop. He’s still gently tugging on Magnus’s hips, spreading his legs even wider, feeling more and more and hearing Magnus struggling for air just as much as he is and feeling Magnus _inside_ him, finally feeling what it’s like-

Until it stops.

Because there’s nowhere else to go. Magnus’s hips are pressed right up to Alec’s ass. He sighs against Alec’s face, quiet, and… relieved? It’s definitely a good sound.

Alec keeps breathing.

And they… stay. Like that. Magnus doesn’t move. He holds himself up, completely still (and Alec wonders how fucking tired his arms must be by now), completely inside Alec… and not doing anything. Waiting for him.

Alec still can’t speak. And he doesn’t know how to get this across, to let Magnus know that he wants him to move. So he sort of… wriggles a bit. Tries to move his hips - but has to give up almost instantly because _fuck,_ any movement at _all_ right now is…

But it must be understandable enough, because Magnus takes an audibly deep breath. “Ready?” His voice sounds strained.

Alec tries to nod. But he can’t. His head just jerks, and not in a direction that indicates ‘yes’. So he works his throat, until it feels a little less like sandpaper. “Ye-yeah.” His hands tighten on Magnus’s hips. “But… slow?”

Magnus makes a sound that might be a laugh. It’s soft, and so nice. “Slow” he repeats, and kisses Alec’s cheek, up near his eye.

And he pulls back. Just the tiniest bit. He’s probably barely moving-

But it’s _shattering_ when he presses back in. Alec can _tell_ how small the movement is, but it’s the… the most he’s ever felt.

After a few seconds of stillness, Magnus keeps going. Just like that. He pulls out a little more every time, before thrusting back in, always so slow and smooth and careful.

And after a while, it’s all of it. Magnus is pulling almost all the way out of him and then pushing his whole cock back in, every single time…

And it’s still gentle. Magnus is still being _so_ gentle, but it’s so overwhelming and _deep_ and Alec doesn’t know what the fuck to do with himself. There’s still some of that sting (enough for him to realize that he’ll undoubtedly be able to feel this for a while after they’re done, and that… that’s… that’s certainly a thought), but he feels it less and less with each thrust. He can’t tell if he’s actually getting used to it, or if the pain is just being overshadowed by…

He can’t describe it. He doesn’t have any words for what this feels like. Just that it’s… good.

It’s so good.

Once Alec gets enough control to get out of his head for a second, he realizes that Magnus is-

By the _Angel._

Magnus is making these sounds. Like he’s never made before (at least, not that Alec’s heard). These low, throaty, _thick_ sounds, that start off desperately loud, then choke off. Like every time, he’s losing control, then getting it back.

It sounds like… Alec wonders if, maybe…

Magnus’s responses are very different, depending on what they’re doing. When Magnus is doing something for Alec, he’s quiet, almost silent, unless he’s talking him through something. He keeps himself quiet so he can hear Alec. Hear his reactions, hear what’s feeling the best, what isn’t as good. But when Alec does something to Magnus, it’s the opposite. He’s _loud._ Alec’s still not sure how much of it is genuine, and how much of it is just to encourage him. To make him feel like he’s doing a good job.

So Magnus is quiet when he’s pleasuring Alec, and loud when Alec is pleasuring him, and now…

Now, both are happening. At the same time.

And it sounds like Magnus is confused about how much sound he’s supposed to be making.

It’s weirdly… cute. Fuck, it’s adorable. Magnus keeps making these loud, deep moans - and then he cuts himself off, in case he’s missing any sounds from Alec. He’s trying to keep himself quiet to make sure he’s listening for Alec’s reactions… but it’s like he can’t do it.

Like he can’t help himself.

Like he feels too good to control his voice.

Too good… because he’s inside Alec…

Alec’s hands slide up Magnus’s back, trying to pull him in closer - even though this has to be literally the closest they could possibly be. But it’s still not enough. So he lifts his legs, and tries wrapping them around Magnus’s waist, so he’s folding Magnus up in all his limbs at once, clinging to him-

He ends up pulling toward Magnus right as Magnus is thrusting into him, meeting him with the same amount of movement.

And that’s… that’s something else. Feeling this with a bit more force. And the fact that it makes Magnus moan even _louder_ … certainly doesn’t hurt.

So Alec tries it again. Clutches Magnus’s shoulders. Presses his heels harder against Magnus’s ass. Grinds up as Magnus thrusts in-

“Ah! Ah, _fuck_ …” Alec grits out, even though his voice is still unsteady.

Magnus makes a _broken_ noise, and starts to move a little bit… more. Deeper. Magnus always loses his composure when Alec swears, and it looks like that’s as true as ever in this situation.

Which is probably why, without planning to, without even _thinking_ about it, Alec hears himself say, “Yeah, Mags. Fuck me.”

And Magnus _sobs._ Actually sobs, and drops his head, tucking his face between Alec’s neck and shoulder. His whole body jerks, like it always does when Alec manages to surprise him-

Except now, while they’re like this, Magnus’s body jerking forward like that means he ends up _really_ thrusting into Alec, harder than he has been so far.

Even though it’s what Alec literally just _told_ him to do, it still catches him off guard. He cries out, way too loud - and it probably sounds bad. Like he’s in pain. So he forces himself to nod, tries to make a more encouraging noise, digs his heels in again, does everything he can possibly think of to make Magnus keep going.

And Magnus does.

And it… works.

Like any other time they have sex, things settle into a rhythm. One that makes sense, and is so, _so_ good, for both of them (at least, Alec assumes as much, judging by the whimpers Magnus keeps smothering against Alec’s throat). It’s good, and it’s easy, and it’s so _bizarre_ for Alec to realize he’s thinking any of those things about being fucked.

Then again, it’s still bizarre enough for him to think that Magnus Bane wants to fuck him in the first place.

It never gets any worse. It only gets better. Minute after minute. Until it’s…

It’s weirdly good. Weird-good.

Weird.

Because a lot of time has passed (presumably). And it’s still… too good. They haven’t had to change positions, or readjust. They haven’t said anything to each other in a while. Nothing’s making any silly noises to ruin the mood, or make them laugh. They aren’t laughing.

They’re serious.

They’re being completely serious. It’s this weirdly perfect, serious thing.

It… sucks.

Because it’s _too_ perfect. Nothing’s going wrong. Something _always_ goes wrong. Takes away the seriousness and lets it be fun instead.

But it’s been perfect for so long, it starts to feel like… it has to stay that way. Like Alec needs to make sure he keeps it perfect, and doesn’t do anything to ruin their perfect, serious lovemaking, and why isn’t anything going _wrong_ goddammit? It’s stifling like this. Alec’s too aware of everything that’s not going wrong. He can’t relax. He can’t remember how to breathe-

He doesn’t notice that all this thrusting on silk sheets has made him slip further up the bed. Not until Magnus thrusts _particularly_ hard, and Alec’s head slams into the headboard.

“Ow! Fucking- ow.” Alec reaches up to rub his aching head. “Fuck. _Finally._ ”

His fingers get tangled up with Magnus’s, since he’s _also_ reaching up. But his fingers are warm with magic, like he’s ready to soothe away the bump.

But Magnus freezes, with his fingers just barely touching Alec’s hair. “‘Finally’?”

Alec closes his eyes, and lets out a long, blissful sigh of relief. “It was going too well, Mags. It was weird. It was all serious and perfect and nothing was going wrong and there was too much pressure to not mess it up, it was _stressful_ and I hated it.”

He swallows.

That was… more than he’d planned to say. Still. It’s true.

It takes him a second to gather up his courage enough to open his eyes. Because he’s realizing that he literally just complained that the sex was  _too good,_ like some kind of moron. And he’d also said that he was hating having Magnus fuck him.

Awesome. Great. Totally normal reaction to sex, right?

He’s a fucking _idiot._

He looks up at Magnus.

And Magnus looks… what. What’s that expression? Is he… amused?

He doesn’t look horribly offended, so that’s good.

And after a moment that’s just long enough to be terrifying, Magnus-

Magnus bats Alec’s hand away from his head, and ruffles his hair. Vigorously.

“Hey, wh-what the _fuck_?” Alec sputters as he tries to crane his head out of Magnus’s reach.

When Magnus finally stops giving him a goddamn noogie, he smiles. Big, and dumb. Like he’s pleased with himself. “There. Now your hair looks stupid. The perfection is officially ruined.” He raises one eyebrow, still with that ridiculous grin. “Pressure’s off.”

Alec takes a breath to respond…

And he lets it out again.

He’s right. The pressure’s off. Something went wrong. And now, whenever he starts thinking that things are getting too good, he’s _absolutely_ going to remember that Magnus called his hair _stupid_ , and that’ll kill the mood right away.

Magnus just… fixed it. Alec feels his chest tighten, like it’s trying to trap the butterflies that have just swarmed in his stomach, to keep them from flying up out of his mouth. He starts to smile.

But he stops himself. Because Magnus still definitely just gave him a noogie during sex, and Alec has too much dignity to let that go without retaliation. He reaches up, as suddenly and as quickly as he can-

Magnus grabs Alec's wrist before his hand gets anywhere _near_ Magnus’s hair. He looks stunned, and completely _outraged,_ his eyes wide and his mouth literally hanging open. Like he can’t believe Alec had the audacity to threaten his hairstyle.

Alec tries to fight back, doing his best to keep himself from laughing as he struggles to worm his arm out of Magnus’s grip…

But it’s hopeless. Because he’s snorting, and then he’s laughing, and then Magnus is _easily_ pushing Alec’s arm down and pinning it to the bed, and then Alec realizes that all of this is happening while Magnus’s dick is still totally inside him, and then he’s laughing _harder._

And Magnus is laughing with him. He laughs as he slides his other hand under Alec’s hips, and lifts up onto his knees a bit, and tugs, scooting them both down the bed a few inches. Enough to keep Alec away from the headboard. And he keeps laughing as he starts moving his hips, starts fucking Alec again in a light, teasing rhythm. He keeps laughing, even as he leans down and kisses Alec.

And-

Oh.

That’s…

Kissing. Magnus kissing him, while he’s fucking him.

While they’re both laughing.

It had been good before. It had been fantastic. Alec can’t deny that. But _this_ is what he was hoping for. What he’d wanted it to be.

“Better?” Magnus asks, basically right into Alec’s mouth.

Alec’s still breathless, from laughing, from being fucked. So he just nods, as enthusiastically as he can, and gives an affirmative hum. The only word he can get out is, “Much.”

Magnus groans in approval. “Lovely.” And he… _yeah._ He puts all his focus back into fucking Alec. Deep, slow, then faster, then slower again…

And the variety makes Alec feel like he’s on fire.

Now that they’ve talked again, Alec can’t make himself shut up. He just keeps saying Magnus’s name, over and over, like a chant. He only breaks it up with a few “yeah”s and “so good”s and more than a few “love you”s.

And he can’t get his hands to stop moving, either. His legs are basically locked around Magnus’s waist - where they’ve been for what feels like _years_ now - but his hands keep running from his ass to his back to his shoulders to his face to his neck to his arms… his arms…

Fuck. He loves Magnus’s arms. He _always_ does, but right now… like this…

He’s so strong. Alec keeps his hands on Magnus’s arms, feeling the way his muscles are straining against his skin as he keeps holding himself up after all this time. It’s his arms and his chest and his back there’s just so much _muscle_ everywhere and Alec can’t fucking stand it, can’t get enough of it. He wants to feel Magnus’s arms around him, not just next to him. He wonders-

He wonders if they could do this… differently. With Magnus standing, and… holding him up. Holding Alec up in his arms while he fucks him, with Alec clutching Magnus’s shoulders, with his legs wrapped around Magnus’s waist just like they are now. Could they do that? He has to know. He has to find out. Just the _thought_ is enough to…

Magnus is getting quieter. Which would be disappointing (since Alec’s never heard him be this loud before, and it’s been unbelievable), except Magnus always gets quieter. When he gets close.

But he's still not completely silent. After a minute or two, he tilts his mouth toward Alec’s ear. “Touch yourself?” He offers, like a suggestion.

Well, it certainly doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

Alec gets one hand between them, between their bodies, which are so close and _connected_ and Alec can’t think about that for too long or he’ll lose his mind. He wraps his hand around his cock and starts to stroke-

Nope.

It’s definitely a bad idea.

His hand recoils, and he hisses through his teeth like he’s been stung.

Hell, it kinda feels like he’s been stung. It’s just… too much. _Way_ too much. It felt like he was already aching with overstimulation, even though he hasn’t come yet. It made him clench up all over, which made Magnus’s cock feel like pain inside him again. He doesn’t understand why, but it made everything feel like shit.

“It… it’s too much,” Alec whimpers, because he feels like he owes Magnus some sort of explanation for not liking his nice suggestion.

Magnus makes a weird sound, somewhere between a sigh and a moan. “Alright.” And he… stops moving. Gradually. Slowing down, then stopping. Still buried all the way in Alec. He keeps their faces close. Cheek to cheek, so Alec can’t see his face. “Darling, are you close?”

Hm. Alec wasn’t expecting that.

And he also wasn’t expecting that his answer to that question would ever be, “Uh… no. Not really.” Because he feels so good, he feels _so fucking good,_ he’s never felt this good in his life. But it’s… not in the right way. With his cock not getting any attention (and apparently hating attention when it gets it), he’s just… not there. It’s the best he’s ever felt, but he’s not going to come. Not for a while, anyway. He can tell.

But if Magnus asked, and he’s been getting so much quieter…

“Are you?”

Magnus laughs, and lets his forehead fall onto the pillow, next to Alec's head. “Alexander, I’ve _barely_ been hanging on since we started.” He nuzzles his face against Alec’s. “You feel too damn good, angel.”

That’s…

“Oh.”

That’s kinda… nice. For once, Magnus is the one who can’t stop himself. The one who’s gonna come earlier than he wants. Alec’s gonna last longer than him.

He smiles. It’s a dumb thing to be proud of, but that’s not stopping him.

So Magnus is basically done. This’ll be over soon. That’s maybe a bit disappointing. But it’s not like Alec could ever _really_ be disappointed in any situation where he gets to watch Magnus come. Gets to see his face. Hear him. Sometimes even… feel-

Wait.

Oh, holy-

“Are y-” Alec’s voice, of course, picks now of all moments to completely give out. He keeps moving his jaw, swallowing and basically gasping for air, until he gets his words back. “Are you gonna-” he whimpers, “gonna… _in_ me?”

It sounds like Magnus tries to swallow a moan, but it comes out anyway. “Only if you want, darling. Whatever you w-”

“Holy _shit._ ” Alec closes his eyes and throws his head back and desperately tries to breathe.

He doesn’t know how he didn’t think of this sooner.

All this time he’s spent wanting Magnus to fuck him so badly, and he seriously _never_ considered the possibility…

His imagination… hadn’t gotten this far. He’d spent so much time thinking about what fucking would be like, and he got stuck there. He never thought about how it would end.

And he doesn’t know why the fuck he cares. But, for whatever reason-

“Please, by the Angel, _please_ Magnus,” he whines, wrapping his limbs tighter around Magnus and squeezing with every part of him, “Mags, please come in me. Please. Oh, _fuck,_ Magnus, come in me, please, _please,_ Mags, I wanna feel-”

If he’d thought of this sooner, he probably would have been so ashamed that he wouldn’t have been able to _dream_ about actually asking for it. In a way, he’s lucky that his idiot brain only figured it out seconds before it actually became a possibility. Because now, he doesn’t care how he sounds. He doesn’t care how desperate he is or how stupid he sounds or how gross it may be that he wants it in the first place. Because he _needs_ it. He needs to know how this feels. Shit, he’s not even sure he’ll be able to feel it at all, if he’ll be able to tell, but he has to find out, he has to he just _has to-_

Magnus makes a sound like nothing Alec’s ever heard. It’s loud, and broken, and stunned. “Alexander…” He starts moving again, thrusting with all the force he’d been using before, but none of the finesse. It’s uneven, and sloppy, and fucking incredible.

Alec wants to keep encouraging him, but can’t manage anything more than whispering “yes, please,” so much that he sounds like a broken record. Magnus is getting so quiet, only letting out tiny noises that are mostly just breath, so it can’t be long now…

All Alec can feel is heat. The heat of Magnus’s sweaty skin against his. The heat of Magnus’s breath on his cheek, in uneven little puffs. The heat of Magnus’s magic, sparking and crackling all around them, like static electricity in the air. And then-

_Oh._

Heat. Inside him.

Magnus is completely silent as he thrusts in, what feels like it's probably as hard as he possibly can. And there’s this… heat. Warmth.

Alec can feel it.

And _then_ Magnus lets out a long, whimpering sigh. His hips jerk a few times, like little half-thrusts. He breathes in with gasps. And breathes out with moans.

It’s beautiful. It’s always so beautiful. Alec loves hearing it. Hearing Magnus come.

But right now…

He can _feel_ it.

He’s stunned. Frozen. He couldn’t move a muscle if his life depended on it.

And he still doesn’t fucking understand why he fucking _cares._ Why knowing that he has… that he has… Magnus’s come… _inside_ him…

Fuck. It’s stupid. Why is this any different than the dozens of times he’s had Magnus’s come in his mouth? Or anywhere else on him, for that matter? Why does he care? Why does he have to care about this? Why is this…

Why is this the most incredible thing he’s ever felt?

Magnus has gone limp. Alec didn’t even notice. But now he’s lying like a ragdoll on Alec’s chest. A complete dead-weight. With his face tucked back in the crook of Alec’s neck again. He’s panting, probably harder than Alec’s ever heard. Alec hopes that’s good. He hopes this felt better than usual for Magnus.

After all, with how Alec’s feeling, it’d only be fair.

They must spend a few minutes like that, lying on the sweaty sheets, completely motionless. Magnus catching his breath. Alec losing his.

It’s only when Magnus finally moves, finally lifts himself away and slowly pulls his dick out of Alec (which is… certainly not the _best_ part of the night), finally moves himself out of this same position and just _happens_ to brush Alec’s cock that Alec finally realizes-

Right. He hasn’t come yet. He’s been hard since… probably since he walked up the stairs to the loft tonight. He still hasn’t come.

But, hell. With how indescribably _good_ it feels to have Magnus’s come in him (and even though Magnus has pulled out now, even though it’s over, he _still_ gets to feel it), he almost doesn’t care. If he never got to have another orgasm in his life, he thinks he’d be fine.

Of course, Magnus has other ideas.

Alec doesn’t know how the fuck he has the energy to do _anything_ right now. But somehow, Magnus manages to crawl backwards down the bed, on his hands and knees, until he’s moved far enough to-

To duck his head and take Alec’s cock into his mouth. Completely. In one fast, fluid movement. One second Alec’s just calmly enjoying his life, and the next, the head of his cock is in Magnus’s _throat._

It’s just not fair.

Alec’s crying out all sorts of stupid gibberish without any ability to make himself stop. But after a night of feeling so fucking good and yet not feeling _anything_ on his cock, this is…

This is gonna kill him.

And Magnus is _obviously_ not trying to draw this out. This is the end of a blowjob. This is what usually happens after ages of teasing and building up and all sorts of other stuff… _then_ this happens. This isn’t supposed to happen out of nowhere. Especially not after Alec…

After he’s just been fucked.

Fuck, it’s too good. It shouldn’t be allowed. He shouldn’t be allowed to feel something this good.

And as if Magnus could _hear_ him say that, as if he heard it like a challenge, Magnus immediately out-does himself. Because, with Alec’s cock still _very much_ in his mouth, Magnus slides two fingers into him-

And it’s easy. He’s never felt Magnus’s fingers go in this easily.

And it’s because he’s already had Magnus’s cock there. He’s open because he’s already had more. And he’s slick…

“By the Angel, _Magnus._ ”

He’s slick with Magnus’s come. Magnus’s fingers slide into him so easily because Magnus’s come is already in him.

Alec doesn’t even bother trying to keep himself quiet as he comes. It happened too suddenly. He’s felt too good tonight. It’s all too much. His back arches off the bed. His eyes screw shut. He thinks he’s probably sobbing a bit.

And he doesn’t care.

At least a few minutes must go by before Alec feels like he can open his eyes again. They’re out of focus. He has to blink too much. His mouth is still open, letting him gasp and moan in turn (just like Magnus had done, after he'd come).

And there’s Magnus.

Magnus is sitting back on his heels, between Alec’s legs, rubbing gently at Alec’s thighs. How long has he been doing that? He’s caught his breath. He looks almost calm now. He’s smiling. And there’s-

No.

_Yes._

Fuck.

There’s come on his lips. Alec’s come. Slowly starting to slip down toward his chin.

Why is he like this? Why does Alec have to want this? Why does Alec have to see his own goddamn semen on Magnus’s lip, and _want_ it? Why does he have to be so disgusting? And why…

Why is Magnus alright with it? Why isn’t Magnus disgusted?

Because he’s not disgusted. Magnus knows. He _knows_ that Alec is like this. That Alec likes this. He knows, which is why Alec’s come is on his lips in the first place. He could have wiped it off. He could have kept it from getting there at all. Because it’s disgusting. It shouldn’t be there.

But it is. Because Magnus knows.

Alec doesn’t know why he likes it. Wouldn’t be able to explain it if he tried.

But that’s just it. He doesn’t have to explain it. Doesn’t have to try. He doesn’t have to say a damn word.

Magnus is already leaning down. Without a word. Without Alec having to ask. Just because he _knows._

Alec has this filthy, disgusting thing that he likes, and he doesn’t know why, but Magnus doesn’t care. He just leans over Alec, with come on his lips, and kisses him.

Alec loves him. Alec loves him so much he feels it well up in his chest and seep into his head until he’s so overwhelmed with how much he loves Magnus that he actually feels tears in his eyes.

And while he’s feeling that, he’s licking his own come out of Magnus’s mouth.

While Magnus’s come is still inside him.

Alec whines, and tries to hold it back, because he’s genuinely afraid he might start crying if he lets this get any worse.

Magnus slowly lowers himself down again, spreads back out over Alec. Holds Alec’s face in his hands. Keeps kissing him. And keeps letting Alec taste himself.

Alec doesn’t get it.

But he lets it happen. He savors every single kiss. And tries to make each kiss as good for Magnus as it is for him (though that can’t be possible).

And after a while, they’re not kissing anymore.

Magnus shifts down a tiny bit, just far enough to pillow his head on Alec’s shoulder.

Alec’s legs are already twined around Magnus’s, and his arms are already around his shoulders, so he doesn’t even have to move. He’s already where he wants to be.

Magnus takes a deep, slow breath. “Mm?”

Alec smiles. Magnus always checks on him when they’re done. Makes sure he’s okay. Always. But apparently he can’t quite muster his usual eloquence. Alec knows how he feels. “Mm-hm.”

“Mmm,” Magnus affirms, and snuggles himself further into Alec’s embrace.

Alec opens his eyes…

And without Magnus over him, he sees the room again. For the first time in what feels like _days_ now. It’s bright in here. Was it this bright the whole time? It’s weird. Alec knows it’s so ridiculously fucking late; it doesn’t feel like it should be bright, even if it’s just because of a lamp. It’s night. The lightbulb should respect that. He blinks as his eyes adjust, looking around to make sure he hasn’t actually gone blind from too much sex.

And he sees-

Whoa.

“Mags?”

“Hm?”

Alec nudges him lightly with his shoulder. “Mags, look.”

Magnus grumbles in protest, but lifts up his head in the direction Alec indicated.

So he sees the giant scorch mark on the wall, right next to the bed. It’s a haphazard, blotchy sort of shape, and it’s gotta be almost three feet in diameter. Holy fuck, it’s still _smoking_ a little bit. Blue smoke.

Magnus doesn’t seem nearly as surprised as Alec. He just plops his face right back down onto his human pillow. “I’ll fix it later.”

Alec laughs, as best he can. He tries to rub Magnus’s back, hold him a little tighter, but…

“I can’t move my limbs. Is that normal?” His whole body feels shaky. But not in a bad way. In a… happy way. A satisfied way.

Magnus chuckles, just once. “Be patient. I’ll fix you after I fix the wall.”

Alec laughs a little more successfully this time. And he manages to splay one hand out a little further down Magnus’s spine (but it makes his arm feel all tingly).

And after that, after all of that, after the wedding and the dancing and the night and the sex and the love, the first thing Alec can think to say is, “Wow.”

It’s stupidly inadequate.

But it makes Magnus giggle against his chest, so Alec doesn’t mind.

Magnus lifts his head, propping up his chin on Alec’s shoulder. It puts their faces at too odd of an angle to really _look_ at each other successfully, but it gets the idea across. “Are you staying here tonight?”

“I think it stopped being ‘tonight’ a few hours ago,” Alec says, and it only sounds a _little_ sarcastic. “It’s probably almost dawn.”

Magnus rolls his makeup-smeared eyes. “Fine. Are you staying here this _dawn_?”

Alec smiles. He’s not really sure how they made it this far without discussing if Alec was going to spend the night - but… Alec remembers how quickly they’d gone from walking in the door to… _this,_ and then it kinda makes sense. “Yeah. I’m staying here.”

“Good.” Magnus lays his head back down. Like that’s all he needed.

And it’s… nice. It’s such a tiny affirmation, but… He was so certain. He didn’t need to hesitate at all. Alec said he’s spending the night, and Magnus is happy. He’s happy that Alec is going to stay with him. Share his bed. Wake up with him in the morning (well, later in the morning). Magnus wants that.

Alec tries to keep his heart from speeding up, since Magnus’s ear is only a few inches away from it.

“Yeah,” Alec agrees quietly. “Good.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By popular demand, the one prompt that has been requested more times than anything else. I promise it wasn't originally going to be this long. But I realized I probably won't devote any other chapter to Jocelyn and Luke's wedding, and I didn't want to gloss over the important stuff. 
> 
> Also, because I _highly_ doubt that I'll find a way to bring it up again: Pop Rocks. When Alec first told Magnus about the similarity between his magic and Pop Rocks (and how it had caused Alec a little... problem), Magnus insisted that they fully test the situation. And yes, they discovered that if Alexander Lightwood eats an entire packet of Pop Rocks, he gets an erection.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s… unexpected.  
> Not that Alec was really _expecting_ something in particular. But he knows that if he _had_ been expecting something, it wouldn’t have been… this.

He’s… unexpected.

 

Not that Alec was really _expecting_ something in particular. But he knows that if he _had_ been expecting something, it wouldn’t have been… this.

Maybe he’s just surprised by the fact that he’s surprised.

After all, he’s known the name for so long. He’s pretty sure that he’s been vaguely aware of the High Warlock of Brooklyn his entire life. Just never in a really prominent way. Maybe he assumed he’d look familiar. If he’s known the name this long, it would make sense for Alec to have seen him at some point. In passing.

But he’s… he’s never seen him. He knows it.

Because he’d remember. This isn’t the type of person you can see and just… forget.

People are talking. Of course they are - there’s a goddamn briefing happening. Alec’s supposed to be _listening_ (and he is listening, just not as thoroughly as he should be). But for some reason…

He can’t make himself look away from the screen. From the images of Magnus Bane.

He looks young - which shouldn’t be strange, because Alec knows how warlocks work. Magnus Bane could look even _younger_ than he does and still be a thousand years old.

It’s probably not that he looks young. That’s not what’s strange. It’s probably more something to do with…

He’s the High Warlock of Brooklyn. That’s a… big deal. At the very least, it’s an important job. A big title. The type of title Alec associates with people like Clave members. He’s used to important people _looking_ important. Looking as serious as their jobs. Severe. Stuffy.

Boring.

So it’s weird. To see a High Warlock leaning lazily on things and obviously doing nothing of importance and being surrounded by people who are _also_ obviously not doing anything important. Alec’s only ever known Magnus Bane for his professional status, and what he’s seeing sure doesn’t scream professionalism.

The older pictures aren’t as strange. There’s still that air of decadence, but it feels more detached. But hell, that’s probably just because they’re from a different time, so Alec doesn’t have a frame of reference for how _fancy_ anything is.

But the most recent-looking picture up there…

How long has Alec been staring at it? He’s not even blinking.

But, there’s…

It’s probably nothing.

It’s a club, after all (as far as Alec can tell). People get dressed up when they go to clubs. It’s an excuse. It doesn’t mean they actually _look_ like that on a daily basis. Everyone surrounding him in the picture is dressed in a similar way. Dark colors, with patches of brightness, from jewelry or… glitter? Is that what that shine is?

It’s probably just an anomaly. Just because of the setting. The fact that he… looks like this.

He’s… extravagant. His clothes are fancier than anything Alec’s ever seen. There’s so much _decoration_ on him, seemingly from head to toe. Alec’s never seen a man looks so… ornate. He’s even…

He’s even wearing makeup. Like, _really_ wearing it. That’s Isabelle-levels of makeup. It might even be a bit _more_ than Isabelle wears. Or maybe it’s just more noticeable, since it’s unexpected. It’s so unexpected to see the High Warlock of Brooklyn, to see a man, wearing makeup like that. With so many people around him. With cameras around him (though it looks like he might not have known about the camera. Actually… why was there a camera there in the first place? Who took this picture?). Wearing makeup, and jewelry, and glitter, where anyone can see him. Being _seen_ like that.

Being seen like _that._

Alec’s heard a few things about Magnus Bane. Mostly from his parents. And mostly bad. It’s not like they’ve ever sat Alec down and specifically told him anything, but he’s heard it. A little mention, here and there. In conversations about other things. To Robert and Maryse, Magnus Bane is a footnote. Someone who occasionally needs to be mentioned, when it’s unavoidable. And it’s bad. They’ve said some really bad things about him.

They’ve certainly never said… that he’s pretty.

Is that-

Is that right? Can Alec use that word, about a man? He’s probably supposed to say something else. That he’s… handsome. Attractive. And he is. He definitely is. It’s not like those words _aren’t_ accurate. He is handsome. But more than that…

He’s pretty.

He’s so, _so_ pretty. He’s beautiful. Alec can’t look away. He’s… stuck. His eyes are stuck on Magnus Bane. Like he’s drawn in. Hypnotized.

And it’s just a picture. He’s not even looking at the camera, he’s looking a different direction, and - by the Angel - what would it be like if he were actually looking at Alec? If Alec actually had to look into his eyes? Alec’s stomach twists up, just at the thought of it. At the thought of seeing him in person, not in a photograph. Real, in front of him, looking at him, moving-

Moving. That’d be… because you can tell, you can just _tell_ by looking at him that he’s graceful. Stupidly graceful. He probably moves like _liquid._ If he stood up, moved toward Alec, looked into his eyes, maybe even smiled - or _smirked,_ that’s probably a better fit for him-

Alec blinks.

What…

What is he doing?

He’s working. He’s in a fucking mission briefing. He needs to fucking _pay attention._ This is already a stupid mission, a stupid idea, a stupid situation that they’ve been thrown into (and apparently they’re all supposed to be just _fine_ with it and somehow _Alec_ is the only one being called unreasonable). It’s not even going to work. It’s a dumb risk for no reason. But it’s still a risk.

Which means Alec needs to be taking this seriously. Taking this _seriously._

And what’s he doing instead? Just… staring. Like an idiot. Staring at these pictures of Magnus Bane like they’re up on the screen for pleasant aesthetic purposes and not _research._ Alec needs to be focusing. He can’t be doing this. He can’t be ignoring everything else that’s going on and getting lost in his own thoughts about nothing. He can’t waste time looking at Magnus Bane for no reason. He can’t sit here and try to figure out if ‘pretty’ or ‘beautiful’ is a better word for him. He can’t use those words. He can’t see this downworlder, this man, and think he’s beautiful. He can’t think that. He can’t look at him like this.

He's not allowed to have that.

Alec looks away.

He looks down at the table, for lack of a better option. He takes a deep breath, but tries to keep it quiet. Doesn’t want to be noticed.

He doesn’t know what that was. But it’s done now.

The meeting continues. Alec focuses. Focuses on what he’s supposed to. What he’s allowed.

He doesn’t look at the pictures again.

 

He’s looking at Alec.

 

He just keeps… looking at him. It’s like every time Alec looks at Magnus, Magnus is already looking at him.

Which is saying something, since Alec is finding it ridiculously difficult to keep his eyes off of him.

But Magnus is…

He’s _looking_ at him.

No one looks at Alec. Not unless they need to. And Magnus doesn’t need to. This isn’t about Alec. There’s a lot of shit happening right now, and Alec’s barely got anything to do with it. He’s here for support. He’s here to make sure nothing goes wrong. He’s not actually _involved._ Magnus doesn’t need to be aware of him at all.

He should be dealing with Clary - not that Alec is thrilled to let Clary be the sole authority in _any_ situation. But he has to admit, this is her problem. Her memories. Magnus should be dealing with her. Just her. But Clary's not even here. She's in the other room, working on the pentagram. 

So why is Magnus…

Why does he keep looking at Alec?

And not just meaningless, passing glances. He’s looking at Alec and… smiling. Smirking. Making these faces like he and Alec are in on some big secret together.

Alec assumed it was a mistake, at first. He’d assumed that Magnus is just… like this. Teasing, and flirtatious, regardless of who he’s talking to. He was just flirting with his audience; it didn’t matter who it was. When he’d given Alec that first little smirk, it wasn’t because of _Alec._ He was just the closest person. He was the random person who’d happened to receive Magnus’s directionless smile.

But now, he keeps… he keeps doing it. Saying these silly things. These _flirty_ things, these things that are so blatant that it’s a little embarrassing just to hear them.

And then he looks at Alec.

 _Only_ Alec.

It can’t be a coincidence. He’s trying too hard. He’s putting too much effort into making sure that he sees Alec, specifically. After he says these things. Hints, and innuendos. It’s like he’s trying to see Alec’s reactions. To his… flirting.

Because that’s what this is. Flirting.

Magnus is flirting with him.

And he’s actively _trying_ to do it. It’s not casual. He’s not throwing it away. He’s completely ignoring everyone else in the room.

Or, no. It’s more than that.

He’s looking _past_ them. He’s acknowledging that there are other people here, and he’s making it clear that he doesn’t care. Like he wants Alec to _see_ him ignoring everyone else. Looking past them. Looking past Isabelle. And Jace.

Looking past Jace. Ignoring Jace.

To look at Alec.

When has anyone ever… done that?

They haven’t. No one ever has.

Never once in Alec’s life has he met someone who saw Jace, who saw him and talked to him and looked at him… and dismissed him. No one has ever looked at Jace, and immediately brushed him aside to look at _Alec_ instead. Look at Alec, and call him-

Jace was right there. Right next to him.

And Magnus had pointed to Alec. And called him… pretty.

Just… said it. Like it’s simple. Like it’s _true._

Like he really meant it.

And that’s the part that Alec cannot wrap his fucking head around. Because Magnus has no reason to lie. He has no reason to say _anything_ he doesn’t mean. Probably not ever, but definitely not right now. He has all the power in this situation. He’s given Isabelle his necklace. He’s agreed to summon the demon for them. They have literally _nothing_ that he could want. They have no leverage.

So Magnus has no reason to be nice to them. If he were trying to _get_ something from them, then maybe it’d make sense. If he was trying to be charming. If he had singled Alec out as the easiest target, like he could tell that all it takes is _one_ look, one nice word to make him forget himself and fall to pieces. That would make sense. That’d be a strategy. An unfortunately good one, too.

But it’s _not_ like that. Magnus has literally no reason to be even mildly pleasant with any of them. From his perspective, this is all bullshit. He’s already had to deal with people he doesn’t like, to barter for a necklace that was _his_ in the first place, to fight off an attack on his safehouse, to try to make that place safe again, and now to top it all off, he has to summon a demon for them. For Shadowhunters. For people he can’t stand. There’s no reason for him to be even remotely _pleasant._ So there’s definitely no goddamn reason for him to…

Lie. To compliment Alec. To flatter him. There’s no reason for him to say these things, unless…

But Alec isn’t, he _isn’t_ -

Magnus is the one who’s pretty.

With all the effort he obviously puts into his appearance, he must look in a goddamn mirror every now and then. He has to be able to see the _difference._ Between them. Magnus has to know what ‘pretty’ means. He sees it every day.

So why did he _say_ that?

Why did he see Alec, see how plain and ordinary and lifeless he looks, see him hovering in the background, unimportant, useless and worthless, and say…

Magnus didn’t have any reason to lie. But even if he thinks he’s telling the truth, he’s wrong. Alec knows he’s wrong.

And he needs to stop looking at him.

Because Magnus is still looking at him.

And Alec doesn’t know what to do with that. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand the flirting. Doesn’t understand the smiles. Doesn’t understand how someone like Magnus could look at someone like _him,_ and think he’s pretty.

Alec feels sick. He doesn’t do well with things he doesn’t understand. And right now, he doesn’t understand anything. It makes him uneasy.

Jace is talking. Alec can hear him, but can’t make out the words. Jace is only a few feet away, but he sounds like he’s underwater.

Alec looks at Magnus.

Magnus looks at him. Even though Jace is talking - probably talking directly _to_ Magnus, since they’re trying to get ready for this whole demon summoning thing - even though Jace is right here… Magnus is looking at Alec.

And when Alec meets Magnus’s gaze, Magnus smiles. A tiny bit. A tiny lift of one side of his mouth. He’s facing Alec, _just_ Alec, and with how everyone is standing, no one else can see his face. No one but Alec.

And he’s smiling.

Alec can’t breathe. He wants to smile back. He wants to cry. He wants to get the hell out of here. He wants to stay here forever. He wants to understand what the fuck is going on in Magnus’s head right now. He wants Magnus to keep smiling. He wants Magnus to call him pretty again. He wants Magnus to smile at him and call him pretty.

Isabelle says something to Jace. Alec can’t hear her, either.

Magnus is still smiling at him. While no one else can see him. Just Alec.

And after a moment, he winks.

Alec can’t do this.

His heart is racing. He still can’t breathe. He feels his throat close up and his stomach lurch like a dropping elevator.

He can’t do this.

Alec clears his throat, and runs his hand through his hair, just as an excuse to move.

He looks away. Turns away from Magnus. Gives his focus to Izzy instead. Pretends he's fine. Pretends he can breathe.

He refuses to look back.

But he swears that he can feel Magnus’s eyes on him. He can feel Magnus, still looking. At him.

 

He’s not being cryptic at all.

 

Alec still doesn’t know why the fuck he said that. It had sounded better in his head. Smooth. And flirty. A little teasing joke.

When he said it out loud, it just sounded stupid.

But, unbelievably, it hadn’t deterred Magnus.

Because he’s still here. Standing in front of Alec. Just a few inches away. Taking another sip of his drink. He’s looking down at his glass. And it feels like it’s been _hours_ since the last time he looked away from Alec.

It’s actually kinda nice. Alec needs the chance to catch his breath.

The first thing he realizes is that he’s holding his own glass so damn tightly, he’s surprised it hasn’t shattered in his fist. Magnus has really strong glasses.

The second thing he realizes is that he’s only taken one sip of it. He still his a full drink in his hand. And Magnus had said…

Alec’s agreed to stay for another drink. That’s what Magnus offered. That’s what Alec accepted. ‘One more drink.’ One _more._ So is that-?

He hasn’t finished this one. Finishing it would mean he’s had one _more_ drink than he’s had so far. But is that what Magnus meant? Or is there another drink after this one?

Because if it is just this drink, just the drink in his hand…

If Alec has agreed to leave after he finishes this drink, he’s gonna have to make sure he drinks it as slowly as possible.

What if he just… didn’t drink it? If he doesn’t finish it at all, if he leaves a little bit at the bottom of the glass, does that mean he gets to stay?

He smiles at the idea. That staying for ‘one more drink’ is so goddamn literal that all he has to do is set down his glass, and he gets to stay here forever. Like he’s found a loophole that lets him completely ignore the rest of his life. The life outside this apartment.

Magnus still isn’t looking at him. His eyes are still cast down. So Alec can keep looking at him, without him seeing it.

By the Angel. How can he be so beautiful? How can anyone actually _look_ like this? Why does he get to just walk around, living his life, being this beautiful? Like it’s no big deal? There’s glitter on his eyes and _gold_ in his hair and in case it weren’t bad enough that Alec can just fucking _see through_ his shirt, it’s also so… open. There’s that exposed patch that practically forces Alec’s eyes to follow it, from the hollow at the base of his throat, down to his chest, down… And there’s all this jewelry, too. In case Alec tried to look literally _anywhere_ else in the apartment, there’s all these necklaces, hanging so perfectly in the open front of Magnus’s shirt to draw Alec’s eyes back to his chest. Always back to his chest. Jewelry and glitter and gold and makeup and he’s so, so beautiful.

Why does he get to be this beautiful? Why does he get to have all this? Why is he allowed to put in this much effort and use such pretty makeup and have such pretty rings on his fingers and such pretty polish on his nails? Why is he allowed to be beautiful?

He looks back up at Alec.

And Alec’s heart speeds up.

Why the fuck is Alec here? Magnus never actually answered him. Of all the questions Alec has ever asked, this is the one he needs the answer to the most.

Because Magnus is looking at him, and smiling.

The most beautiful man Alec has ever seen is smiling at him.

It’s not like last time. Because they’re alone (well, basically. Luke is asleep in another room, so that really doesn’t feel like it counts). Last time, it had been everyone, with Magnus fighting so hard to make it just about them.

And now, it _is_ just them. Just the two of them.

Which means that this time, when Magnus smiles at him, Alec smiles back.

Because who’s gonna see it? No one. No one but Magnus.

They’re alone in this big, empty room. Standing just a few inches away from each other. Holding drinks.

Smiling at each other.

Alec feels lightheaded. Dizzy. His heart is still racing. It feels like it’s pumping so hard that it’s gaining enough momentum to launch itself right out of Alec’s chest.

Because he’s alone. With Magnus Bane.

Magnus Bane, who’s been stuck in Alec’s mind since the first time he saw him. Magnus Bane, who’s been _flirting_ with Alec since the moment they met. Magnus Bane, who’s so beautiful that it literally takes Alec’s breath away.

They’re alone. And they’re so close. Alec’s never been this close to someone before. Not like this. Not in this context. Every part of him is right within Alec’s reach. His hands. His face. His lips.

His lips.

It’s a new feeling. Unfamiliar, but thrilling. For Alec to stand here, wanting to kiss someone, and actually thinking… that he might want to kiss Alec, too.

Thinking that if he stepped in closer, took just _one_ step in (since that’s all the distance there is between them), and tilted his head down just a little bit, he could kiss Magnus. And Magnus might… let him. Part his lips. Put his hand on Alec’s cheek, or the back of his head, so he can run his fingers through Alec’s hair. Kiss him back. Kiss him.

By the Angel, Alec wants to kiss him. His lips are just as beautiful as the rest of him. So smooth, and soft - not like Alec’s, which are always so chapped that they split open and bleed more often than not. Magnus’s lips look like they’d feel good. They’d feel soft, and Magnus would be soft about the way he kisses. Gentle. Easy. It’d be so easy to kiss him.

And Alec could do it. Right now. There’s nothing stopping him. There’s literally _nothing_ preventing him from taking a step in and kissing Magnus Bane. He could do it. He can do it. He can do it right now.

Alec shifts his weight, starts to move forward-

“Alexander,” Magnus’s smile twists. Gets a little wry. “You don’t have to drink that if you don’t like it. I won’t be offended.”

Alec has to take a moment-

He’s disoriented. He’s stopped moving, frozen back where he’s been standing, so close to Magnus, but just too far away to…

He wasn’t going to kiss him. Of course he wasn’t.

Him, kissing someone. Someone like Magnus Bane. The thought is so ridiculous it’s actually funny. Funny to think-

Alec finally registers that Magnus said something to him.

He glances down at his drink. And then at Magnus’s. And he realizes that Magnus’s glass is almost empty, and Alec’s still only taken that one little sip of his.

Right.

“No, it’s- uh. It’s not… not that, I wa- I was…” He closes his eyes in frustration at his own useless voice. He can’t think of any words. Any good words to say right now. He opens his eyes again, and realizes that there’s so much heat in his face that he can literally feel it _radiating_ off of himself. His eyebrows tilt up. “I don’t like it,” he admits, as quietly as possible. Trying his damndest to not die from embarrassment, right where he stands.

And Magnus…

Laughs. Soft, and warm. But he’s clearly not making fun of Alec. It’s like he actually thinks Alec is funny. Like he thinks he’s… a little charming? Maybe? Magnus looks charmed. His smile is bigger than it has been, and his eyes are crinkling at the corners, and his shoulders are shaking, just a little bit.

It’s like Alec’s heart is trying to crawl up his throat. He almost wants to look away. It’s almost too much, seeing someone this beautiful looking this happy. Alec almost can’t handle it.

Almost.

“Well, I’m sure we can do better than that.” Magnus turns back to the counter-ish thing with all the drinks on it. He wasn’t too far away from it, but it’s enough that he needs to take a little step in to get what he needs. A little step away from Alec.

So Alec follows him.

By the Angel, what’s his problem? Magnus took _one step_ in a different direction, and Alec just _immediately_ went after him, like there are goddamn magnets in the toes of his boots.

But Magnus doesn’t seem to mind, because he’s still smiling. And he holds out his hand.

Alec hands over his barely-touched drink.

And if their fingers brush when Magnus takes the glass from him, just the tiniest bit, well. No one’s here to see it. No one can hear the way it makes Alec’s breath hitch. Just Magnus.

And he’s still smiling. “I’m certain there’s _something_ here that’s suited to your taste.” Magnus raises an eyebrow, even though he’s looking down at the bottles and glasses. Because Alec can still see him. They’re still that close. “What do you like?”

Alec opens his mouth-

And closes it again, nibbling the inside of his lower lip for a second. He knows what he _wants_ to say, but it’s…

Hm. Actually, maybe it’d work.

Alec works his mouth a bit, trying to keep himself from smiling. “I don’t know,” he’s definitely failing at the not-smiling thing, but he hopes he’s at least keeping his voice somewhat serious. “Do you have anything that _doesn’t_ taste like hairspray?”

He swallows, still trying to get the stupid fucking grin off of his face. Because it’s just stupid if he’s smiling. If he keeps a straight face, then it’s… maybe. _Maybe_ it’s flirtatious. He’s hoping it’s flirtatious. At the very least, he hopes Magnus recognizes that Alec has no fucking clue how to flirt, and he’s trying. He’s doing his best. Hopefully it’s the thought that counts.

Magnus makes one little sound, somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. He looks back up at Alec. His eyebrows are raised. His mouth is a little bit open. He’s surprised.

Alec just surprised him. Huh. That’s… a nice feeling.

Magnus smiles at him again, but it looks significantly more playful than it has before. “How do you know what hairspray tastes like?”

Alec can tell that he’s being teased, but for some reason… he’s fine with that. So he just shrugs. “Isabelle.”

(Because if you forget to knock before you open Izzy’s bedroom door, you get a facefull of whatever she’s holding, and if she happens to be doing her hair…)

Magnus laughs, but… quietly. With his mouth closed. It’s almost like… giggling.

It does something really _stupid_ to Alec’s head. He thinks he might actually fall over.

Magnus starts making a new drink. Pouring various things out of insanely fancy bottles (are they… diamond? Why the fuck are they so shiny? By the Angel, how long would it take for Alec to save up enough money to buy just _one_ of these things, much less the dozen that Magnus has? And then, how expensive are all the liquids inside them? How much fucking _money_ is sitting on this table?), measuring out little, careful amounts into a fresh glass.

He’s concentrating. Alec can see it. The way his eyebrows come together just a little bit, just enough to get a little crease between them. The way he bites his lower lip, and slowly, _slowly_ lets it slip back out from between his teeth.

There’s a tiny bit of shine on his lip now, a little wet spot from where his tongue must have touched it.

And, holy _fuck,_ Alec would give just about anything in the world to lean in and wipe it off with his thumb. To touch Magnus’s lips.

But he’s busy. He’s concentrating.

Also, Alec can’t move. That’d probably make it difficult.

It isn’t until Magnus is apparently pulling a slice of pineapple out of midair and wedging it onto the rim of Alec’s glass that Alec realizes… they aren’t saying anything. They haven’t said anything while Magnus has been focused on making Alec’s drink. They’ve been totally silent for probably two solid minutes now.

Alec usually can’t handle more than fifteen seconds of silence in a conversation. That’s when he gets nervous and starts blurting out the first thing that pops into his head.

But with Magnus… it hasn’t been awkward at all. Not talking. It’s just… made sense. It’s felt as natural as the conversation. It’s…

Easy.

It’s easy to talk to Magnus. It’s easy to _not_ talk to Magnus. It’s easy to smile at him. It’s easy to say whatever the hell he wants. It’s easy to watch him, and not worry that he’s been staring for too long. It’s easy to be around him.

And when…

When was the last time Alec thought _anything_ was easy? When was the last time he felt this comfortable?

When was the last time he looked at another person, and felt… good?

Magnus had told him to stay for one more drink. He’s making that drink right now, giving it the same little snap of magic that he’d done to the first one. This is the drink. The time frame Alec had picked for himself. One drink. Then he’d leave. Go home. Back to the Institute.

Magnus smiles to himself as he puts a stopper back in one of the bottles.

And even though it’s impossible, Alec can’t help but wonder if he’s smiling because he knows. If he can somehow _tell._ That Alec’s not going home after this drink. That Alec’s made his decision.

Alec’s going to stay here as long as he possibly can.

Magnus takes the finished drink, and looks back up at Alec.

And his smile is so soft, and small, and sincere.

It’s so beautiful that Alec has to look away. He drops his gaze to the floor, feeling his face heat up about a thousand degrees. Feeling the way his mouth keeps fighting off a smile.

Magnus holds the drink out to him.

And Alec physically _can’t_ make himself look up again. Not until he gets his face under control. So he looks at the glass instead, looks at Magnus’s hand.

And he sees a blue spark crackle between them when their fingers touch.

 

He’s too close.

 

He’s too close, he’s too fucking close.

Alec shouldn’t have come. Fuck. He knows he shouldn’t have come. He knew damn well that this was a fucking _terrible_ idea.

Because he fucking knew. He knew this wasn’t about the Cup. Or Jocelyn. Or anything else that’s important right now. Anything that could have justified his being here. He _knew_ it wasn’t about any of that.

It’s about him. He knew it was about him before he even walked in the door.

And he came here anyway.

He’s fucking idiot.

He thought it’d be easier to see Magnus now. He thought there’d be some sort of… awareness. Like a physical barrier to keep Magnus at a safe distance. Because he’s off-limits. Before, he’d just been… unlikely. It was unlikely that Alec could ever be with him.

Now, it’s an impossibility.

But that’s not making it any easier.

Well, maybe it would be, if Magnus weren’t being like _this._ If he weren’t standing so close and saying these things and breathing such _warm_ breath onto his neck and looking so goddamn beautiful and… trying.

Why is he trying?

It’s happened. It’s done. Alec is engaged. Magnus _knows_ Alec is engaged. Magnus knows he’s getting married to someone else. Soon. So terrifyingly soon. Magnus knows Alec can never have him.

And he’s still trying. He’d still asked Alec to come here. So he could keep trying.

Why?

It doesn’t make any sense. None of this has made any sense. From the moment Magnus had walked over and introduced himself, and _smiled_ while he’d done it… not a moment of this has made sense. But right now, that-

That almost makes this part…

It’s almost easier to understand this, what’s happening now. When he compares it to how it used to be. Because while Magnus was smiling at him, and flirting with him, and moving in closer and closer whenever they spoke, it was more than Alec could process. He didn’t know what to do with himself, with Magnus, with any of it.

And now, that’s done.

The smiles are gone. The warmth in Magnus’s voice is gone. The happiness is gone.

This is what Alec knows. This is the kind of thing he’s used to. Bitterness. Anger. When Magnus had smiled at him, it had been so unfamiliar that it left Alec dizzy. Alec isn’t used to seeing anyone smile at him.

But the look of absolute disappointment on Magnus’s face… that’s something Alec’s seen before. Not from him specifically, but from… everyone else.

It’s almost funny, in an awful, morbid way. Because standing here, in a place that’s been so nice up until now, with a beautiful man who’s been so wonderful to him up until now, and he knows that he’s ruined all of it…

It’s funny. Because it was so inevitable. Of course Alec fucked it all up. Of _course_ he did. It’s funny that he ever thought this would end well. It’s funny that he thought he could have something this nice and not immediately ruin it. It’s funny that he thought he could have something nice.

Why did he? Alec’s smarter than that. He should never have believed, not for a second, that this could have worked. Why the fuck did he think he could have this? What made him think that he could _ever_ be that happy? Someone like him, getting to be with someone like Magnus Bane. It’s laughable.

It’s the stupidest lie he’s ever let himself believe. That he deserved to be with someone who makes him happy. That he deserved to be with someone like Magnus, someone so beautiful, someone so _openly_ beautiful. That he deserved to be _wanted_ by someone like Magnus, that someone like Alec - someone so plain and worthless and ugly - could _possibly_ be considered worthy of Magnus Bane’s attention. That he deserved any of it. That he deserved to be happy.

What the fuck made him think he deserves to be happy?

So he does the only thing he knows he can do. He ends it. He’s harsh, and he’s cruel, and he hopes it’s enough. Enough to make Magnus realize that Alec doesn’t deserve him. Enough to make Magnus stop trying.

That’s what he deserves.

And it’s…

It’s awful.

He knew it would be. When he got Magnus’s text. On the way over here. He knew this was what it was going to be. He wasn’t optimistic about this visit. He knew that if he came here today, he’d have to do this. It was inevitable. He was prepared.

But that’s not exactly comforting right now.

Because it’s so… permanent. If he hadn’t come here, if he’d left it open, he still could have hoped. That maybe he’d still have… something. There’d still be a chance. He could pretend that if he saw Magnus again, he might get to see him smile. He could pretend that he hadn’t disappointed him. That everything was fine. He wishes he could pretend everything is fine. He wishes Magnus could be happy again. He wants Magnus to be happy.

He wants Magnus to smile at him again.

He wants to see it again. Feel the little flicker of warmth in his chest. See Magnus’s eyes, focused on _him_ and nothing else. He wants to be someone’s focus. He wants to be the only thing Magnus is looking at, like Alec is the only thing in the room that matters. He doesn’t want that to be over.

He doesn’t want this to be over.

He turns back, hoping. Desperate. He looks up one last time-

Magnus is gone.

 

He’s here.

 

He’s… here.

After everything else, after everything that’s happened, after what Alec had said, after Magnus had told him he wouldn’t get another chance.

He’s right here. Right at the other end of the aisle.

Looking at him.

And Alec realizes that as he keeps holding Magnus’s gaze, it gets easier to breathe. His racing heart calms down. His screaming mind quiets. Because he’s looking at Magnus. Everything is easy when he looks at Magnus. It’s easy to breathe. It’s easy to think.

And it’s so easy to take that first step.

Alec walks toward him. Because he’s never been more certain about anything.

And he doesn’t look away. Not for a second.

 

He’s so beautiful.

 

He’s like, _stupidly_ beautiful. He’s so stupidly beautiful it shouldn’t be allowed. People shouldn’t be allowed to look like this. Alec shouldn’t be allowed to see it.

But he _is_ seeing it. He’s been seeing it all night.

And Magnus has been beautiful. All night.

By the Angel, he was beautiful enough when he first opened the door to the loft tonight. Alec’s knees had almost given out, just from that first glance. And it’s only gotten worse. He’s been getting more and more beautiful every time Alec looks at him. If Alec stays here much longer, he thinks Magnus’s level of beauty might actually become lethal.

But he’s not staying. He’s on his way out. This is the end of the night.

The end of their date.

Alec’s mouth does that weird thing it’s been doing since he left the Institute all those hours ago. That weird, spastic movement, where he tries to keep himself from smiling. And fails. Spectacularly.

He should just give up. Accept that he’s smiling. He can’t stop smiling. He physically _can’t_ stop. He’s been smiling so much tonight, his mouth hurts.

Though, he supposes there’s a chance that the soreness also has something to do with… how much kissing he’s been doing.

Alec’s smile breaks open into another stupid grin. His insides start swishing around like a washing machine. He laughs. Nothing’s funny, but he laughs. He can’t help himself. He just laughs, at absolutely nothing. He’s standing right outside Magnus Bane’s doorway, at the end of their first date, laughing for no goddamn reason.

He realizes he shouldn’t be laughing. And that makes him laugh harder.

Magnus is smiling. Leaning in his doorway, with his hand on the frame and his outstretched arm propping him up. He’s smiling. He’s smiling at Alec.

He’s so fucking beautiful. He’s been beautiful literally every single time Alec has ever seen him, but this is…

His clothing’s a little rumpled. Some of his necklaces are crooked, so the clasps are visible on his chest and the jewels are hidden around the back of his neck. His lipstick is faded, and smudged a little bit outside the actual shape of his lips. And there’s one spot on his head, one patch at the top of his perfect hairstyle that’s been totally fucked up. Because that’s where Alec’s hand was. Where he’d buried his fingers in Magnus’s hair and gently tugged just to see what would happen, and Magnus had _moaned_ underneath him, moaned right into Alec’s mouth-

Alec laughs again.

Because Magnus Bane is the most beautiful man Alec has ever seen. And right now, he looks more beautiful than ever. Disheveled, breathing a little heavy, all of his perfection the tiniest bit… ruined.

Because he was kissing Alec.

By the Angel, Alec’s face hurts from all this smiling. When was the last time he smiled this much? When was the last time… he was this happy? So happy it’s like he’s perpetually _excited,_ about nothing at all? He’s so fucking happy he wants to literally bounce a little on the balls of his feet. He doesn’t know what else to do with himself.

Magnus just looks too beautiful. How can he look like this? Does he _know_ what he looks like right now? Alec has to bite his lip just to keep himself from blurting it out-

But…

He laughs again.

How many times has this happened now? All night, hell, all _week,_ Alec’s been catching himself. Stopping himself. Feeling the urge to tell Magnus how good he looks, and squashing it. Like he’s been doing since he first met him. Because back then, Alec _couldn’t_ say anything. It wasn’t allowed. It would have made things too complicated. Too real.

But things are different now.

After all, they just went on a date. They just went on a really, _really_ nice date. And they kissed. They kissed so much that Alec’s lips feel chafed. They… they didn’t just kiss, like that first kiss at the Institute, or the one when Alec stopped by a couple of days ago. Tonight, they _kissed._ Smushed together on the couch, Alec actually lying down _on top_ of Magnus, kissing. For what had felt like just a few minutes, but had turned out to be over half an hour.

Alec forces himself to stop thinking about that. He’d only barely gotten his boner under control after they’d stopped kissing; he knows he’d literally die of embarrassment if it came back while they’re just standing in the doorway, not doing anything.

Magnus tilts his head to one side. Still smiling. A small, _happy_ smile. The smile that Alec has seen before, but only directed toward him. He’s never seen Magnus smile at anyone else like this.

Things are different. Magnus isn’t off-limits anymore. Alec was Magnus’s date tonight. Alec’s the one Magnus had offered his arm to while they were walking. Alec’s the one Magnus had talked to for hours and hours and _hours,_ telling him stories, making him laugh, listening to him. Alec’s the one Magnus had kissed. So much. For such a long time. Alec’s the person Magnus wanted to spend his time with tonight.

Alec’s the person Magnus wanted. Wants.

So Alec doesn’t stop himself.

“Have you- there’s… I wa-” Alec shakes his head. Laughs at himself. Tries again. “You look really good tonight. I mean, you _always_ do, but especially tonight. You look really pretty.” His stomach heats up, like it’s trying to set his heart on fire. He feels his grin get even dopier. “Have I mentioned that?”

Magnus giggles, he actually _giggles,_ and Alec thinks he could die like this. “Why, yes. You _have_ mentioned that.” Magnus ducks his head, and his smile gets bigger. Sweeter. “Quite a few times, actually.”

Alec laughs again. Can’t stop himself. Wouldn’t want to if he could. Because it’s true. He has said that a lot tonight. Because he can. He _can._ He can tell Magnus anything. He can say anything to Magnus, and it’s all okay. He doesn’t have to keep this to himself anymore. He can tell Magnus how much he likes him. He can tell Magnus that he can’t stop thinking about him. He can tell Magnus how beautiful he is.

He’s allowed to say it.

Magnus raises one eyebrow, and it makes his smile look even _cuter_ somehow. “Now, don’t you have to be getting _home,_ Alexander?”

He does. He knows he does. Magnus knows he does. Because this isn’t their first attempt to say goodbye tonight. They’ve tried so many times, Alec’s lost count. They said goodbye on the couch, but then Magnus stopped so he could wipe his lipstick off of Alec’s mouth. They said goodbye, but then Magnus walked him to the door. They said goodbye, but then Chairman Meow had tried to claw his way up Alec’s jeans. They said goodbye, but then Magnus opened the door for him.

They said goodbye, but then Alec told Magnus how pretty he looks.

He has to leave at some point. He can’t stay here forever (by the Angel, wouldn’t it be nice if he could stay here forever?).

“Yeah,” Alec says, and even though he’s not excited about it, the damn stupid smile on his face won’t go away, so he sounds just as happy as he’s sounded all night.

But there’s one more thing. One thing he already knows. They’ve already discussed it, and it’s been taken care of. Alec just wants to hear it again. “So… next time?”

Magnus’s smile gets more smirk-y, like he can tell Alec doesn’t actually _need_ this reassurance. “Next time,” he confirms. Still looking happy. Happy about this date. Happy that they’re going to have another one. “But I don’t know when I’ll have another evening free.”

Alec shrugs. “Same here.” For some reason, that doesn’t bother him. He thinks the emotional high of this date could probably last him a few years, at least. He’s genuinely not sure that he’s ever going to be able to stop smiling. He can wait, however long it takes for them to find time to do this again. He’ll be fine.

Magnus doesn’t seem worried either. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” His smile has completely changed into a smirk now. It’s enough to make Alec’s heart speed up.

And then Alec’s heart _stops_ completely, because Magnus winks at him. “Call me?”

Alec tries to laugh, but it comes out weak. “Yeah.”

He takes a deep breath, and starts walking away. He needs to leave. He needs to rip off the bandaid and _leave,_ or he’ll be standing in this doorway until morning.

But he can’t… can’t quite make himself look away. So he just backs up instead. Refusing to turn around. Refusing to look away from Magnus.

He’s still looking at Magnus, so he doesn’t notice that he’s backed up to the top of the staircase.

He’s still smiling at Magnus, so he doesn’t notice his foot miss the top step.

 

He’s still asleep.

 

Alec’s never seen him sleep before. Well, not _really_ sleep. He’s seen him doze a little, close his eyes, nod off, snap awake again. On those nights that Alec stayed here so late, stayed until the early hours of the morning before going home. They’ve both spent a good number of those dates desperately trying to stay awake. Because Alec didn’t spend the night. It was a rule. He _didn’t_ spend the night, so he couldn’t fall asleep. He could never fall asleep here.

Well, there’s a first time for everything.

Alec doesn’t think he’s ever slept so well in his life. It’s probably just because of how fucking amazing Magnus’s bed is. Especially in comparison to the pile of rocks and straw that the Institute insists is an acceptable mattress. It turns out that sleeping on a _good_ bed makes you sleep better. Who knew?

Of course, it’s also entirely possible that there are other reasons that Alec slept so well. It’s possible that it had something to do with the beautiful, amazing man who’s fast asleep next to him.

Alec doesn’t know how he got so far away. Magnus is all the way on the other side of the bed. When they’d fallen asleep last night, they were both in the middle. Together.

(And now it seems silly for Alec to think back, to think about how Magnus had turned away from him, faced the other way, shown Alec his back. It's silly for Alec to remember how _nervous_ he’d been. How he’d slowly inched himself forward, so afraid that he was misreading something, overstepping a boundary, going somewhere he wasn’t wanted. He’d been so nervous as he gently pressed his body up against Magnus’s back, fit their legs together, slid his arm around Magnus’s waist, and tucked his face against Magnus’s neck. He’d been afraid it wasn’t wanted. But Magnus had made such a _happy_ little sound, and snuggled back even further against him. And now, it feels so obvious that it’s almost _embarrassing_ for Alec to realize how uncertain he'd been.)

They’d fallen asleep like that, completely pressed together, tucked carefully under the sheets.

And somehow, Alec had woken up sprawled on his side, with the sheet tangled up in his feet.

And Magnus is so far away from him. Lying on his stomach, with one arm tucked under the pillow and the other stretched out over his head.

And, unsurprisingly, he looks beautiful. His hair is worse than Alec’s ever seen it. There’s makeup _all over_ his face, like when a toddler gets their hands on a tube of lipstick. And he looks… calm. Happy. His mouth is a little bit open (but of course, he _isn’t_ drooling, because he’s way too elegant for that. He’s not like Alec, who had woken up with a wet spot on the pillowcase - and had been so fucking embarrassed that he’d just turned it over, in hopes that Magnus won’t notice). He’s not snoring, but he’s breathing deeply, and tiny little sounds are coming out when he exhales. Like a bunch of little sighs. He’s beautiful.

He’s so beautiful that it’s taking all of Alec’s restraint to keep himself from rolling right on top of him. He wants to plaster himself to Magnus’s back, kiss his neck, run his fingers through his fucked-up hair, feel the shape of his ass against Alec’s hips-

Though that, at least, he can still appreciate just fine from here. His eyes trail down Magnus’s back, trying to see every bit of muscle, every patch of skin that isn’t covered by the sheet. And he looks at Magnus’s ass. He _really_ looks at it. And he smiles at the knowledge that he can do that. He can stare at it all he wants. Hell, even if Magnus were awake, and watching him, Alec could _still_ stare at his ass. Magnus would probably like it, actually. Knowing him, he’d smirk, strike a funny pose, arch his back so it sticks out even more, just to get a reaction from Alec.

But it’s not Alec’s fault that Magnus has such an _amazing_ ass. Even covered in the twisted, bunched up sheet, it’s still gorgeous. Alec still can’t get over the fact that he’s run his hands over it. He’s grabbed it as he’s felt Magnus thrust against him, he’s clutched Magnus’s ass while he’s come.

It’s unbelievable.

Alec wonders if he could pull away the sheet without waking up Magnus. With how haphazardly it’s covering him, Alec’s pretty sure it’s been tugged around quite a bit during the night. Maybe Magnus wouldn’t notice. Maybe Alec could just… accidentally pull it away. It’s tangled up in his feet, which is a perfectly good excuse. To make it… slip down Magnus’s back, a bit further. Just enough to expose his ass. So Alec could really see it again. Covered by nothing but that underwear, that pretty underwear that he can’t really remember off the top of his head, but he knows it’s pretty. He remembers it’s pretty. It’s pink. And it’s… lace? Alec vaguely remembers feeling lace under his fingers last night. Lace, and something else, something so soft… he didn’t have a name for it.

He wants to see it again. He wants to see it, and touch it, and touch Magnus, and do _so much_ for Magnus. He wants to make Magnus come again. They’d fooled around last night (and done something - Alec swallows - done something _very_ new), but Alec already wants more. Because he’s still here. He’s still here, and they’d slept together, slept cuddled together, and now they’re starting the day in the same bed where they’d fooled around and fallen asleep and Alec wants all of it again.

But he doesn’t want to wake up Magnus.

It’s still pretty early. Alec wishes he could make himself sleep in when he has the chance. He could still be curled up with Magnus right now, fast asleep.

Then again, it’s not exactly _awful_ to get to watch Magnus sleep-

Oh.

Wait.

Shit.

Is this… is this creepy? Is he supposed to be watching Magnus while he sleeps? Isn’t that something creepy stalkers do?

Shit.

He’s definitely just… staring at him. Staring at his mostly-naked body and imagining the few parts that he can’t see and thinking about fooling around with him, completely unable to stop thinking about fooling around with him…

Yeah. This can’t be good.

And as if he weren’t already convinced, Magnus moves. He makes a sleepy sound, one that’s a little louder than his sleepy breaths, and shifts over onto his side.

Away from Alec.

Yeah, that’s a sign. Alec needs to get his shit together. He can't stay like this.

But what… what are his other options?

Get up, get dressed. Take a shower? No, he’s not comfortable using the shower without asking first. Besides, it might be too loud - he _really_ doesn’t want to wake up Magnus. But he feels gross, like he should shower. And brush his teeth. Shit, he doesn’t have a toothbrush here. Why didn’t he think of that sooner? Fuck. He didn’t think through _any_ of this. He can’t get dressed because he can’t shower. He can’t brush his teeth because he’s an idiot. He can’t stay in this bed because he’ll keep staring at Magnus like a creep.

His stomach rumbles.

Hm.

Breakfast? That’s something. He could make breakfast. Yeah, that’d actually… it’d take enough time to let Magnus wake up, and it’d be… nice. He could make breakfast for Magnus. For letting him stay here. Well, maybe not _breakfast_ (because in someone else’s apartment, what the fuck would he make?). But, coffee. Yeah. That’s simple. Easy. Still nice. Waking up to the smell of coffee, already made. It’d be nice.

He starts to get out of bed, as carefully as possible.

Magnus doesn’t move.

It feels weird, waking up, getting out of bed, and realizing that he’s only wearing boxers. He can’t remember the last time he did that. Even on summer nights when it feels like the Institute is borrowing heat directly from Hell itself, Alec sleeps with a shirt on. He can’t handle it any other way.

Unless he’s with Magnus, apparently.

He glances down.

It’s not… terrible.

It’s not good. It’s definitely not good. But it’s not _really_ bad, either. It’s better when he’s in bed, with the sheet to cover him if he needs it. With Magnus, to touch him and kiss him and call him beautiful, no matter how untrue that is. But right now-

Alec’s eyes snap down to his hips. To his right hip.

His boxers are slipping down a bit. They’re so worn that they don’t really stay up without pants on. So his hip is exposed enough that Alec can see…

There’s two of them. Two dark, messy, _big_ hickeys. One right on his hip bone, one a little bit more center. A little bit closer to his-

Alec bites his lip.

He won’t have to get rid of these.

Magnus is very careful with hickeys. He always asks Alec first. Asks if he can leave a mark. And Alec’s pretty sure he’s _always_ said yes. Because Magnus can suck a bruise onto his throat, and wipe it away a second later, with a little hint of magic. He always takes them away, so Alec doesn’t have to worry.

And it’s nice, not having to worry about covering anything up. Being able to be marked however he wants, knowing he has this magical ‘undo’ button.

But these hickeys, here on his hip…

Who’d see those?

Magnus usually leaves hickeys on Alec’s neck, or his chest, or his stomach, or his shoulder blades. All places they could easily be seen. All places they definitely _would_ be seen. So he has to get rid of them.

But no one is going to see his hip. All of his pants sit higher than this. His boxers _would_ be hiding it if they weren’t falling down. No one will ever see these hickeys.

No one but him, and Magnus.

So he can… keep these. Leave them right where they are. Hidden under his clothes. Today, when he finally leaves the loft and goes back to the Institute, he’ll still have them. Still have these two little marks.

He touches them, presses down a little, and-

Yeah. He can feel it. The tiniest ache, right under his finger.

He’ll still be able to feel that after he leaves. After he covers them up. He’ll still have these marks, these spots of proof that Magnus’s mouth was there. That Magnus wanted him like that.

That Magnus wants him.

Alec takes a deep breath. He’s supposed to be getting his shit together, not totally losing it because of a couple little hickeys. He pulls up his boxers, making sure the waistband covers his hips enough to hide the bruises.

Okay.

He’s fine.

He starts toward the bedroom door-

Chairman Meow _sprints_ through it before Alec can even take a couple steps.

After that first moment of shock and terror and fighting instincts, Alec realizes the cat’s come running because he heard Alec get up. He wonders if he needs to be fed, or-

Chairman Meow doesn’t even look at Alec. He just jumps right up onto the bed, takes a few exploratory steps, and practically _falls_ onto his side, stretching out all his little paws before curling up into a ball.

Right next to Magnus.

Right where Alec had slept.

Alec smiles, even though he feels weirdly guilty about stealing Chairman Meow’s spot for the night. He hopes the little guy wasn’t lonely, left out in the big empty loft all night long. Next time they’ll have to compromise. He’s not giving up his spot next to Magnus (especially not for a _cat_ ), but maybe the Chairman wouldn’t mind sleeping at the foot of the bed.

It’s a bright morning. It looked more subdued in the bedroom, but the rest of the loft is _blindingly_ sunny. Alec has to blink a few times before his eyes will adjust.

Okay. Coffee. He can do this. Something nice. Something nice for Magnus.

Magnus…

Alec stops, right in the doorway.

He turns around.

He wants one last, quick look before he leaves the room. One last look at Magnus, sleeping so peacefully, with Chairman Meow curled up next to him.

Alec's ‘quick’ look lasts a lot longer than it should. He just looks at Magnus, smiling to himself. Second after second. Maybe minute after minute.

Okay. That’s enough.

But when Alec finally looks away, finally leaves the bedroom, and finally goes out into the loft to make coffee, he’s still smiling.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a prompt asking to see something from before Magnus and Alec actually get together. And somehow, this happened? I don't even know. I just had a lot of feelings.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not a castle.  
> That’s what Alec keeps telling himself. What he’s been telling himself all week. Like a mantra.  
> It’s not a castle.

It’s not a castle.

That’s what Alec keeps telling himself. What he’s been telling himself all week. Like a mantra.

It’s not a castle.

Technically.

But it’s definitely… something. A mansion, probably. At least. Is there something between a mansion and a castle? Alec doesn’t actually know what constitutes a ‘castle’ in technical terms.

Hell, maybe this _is_ a castle, and Magnus is just lying to him. After all, Magnus had promised there’d be no castles for their anniversary… and their anniversary was _technically_ last month. It’s exactly the kind of loophole Magnus would exploit.

Either way, it’s not-quite their anniversary, and they’re in a not-quite castle. There’s not much Alec can do about it now. They’ve already been here for six days; there’s no point in pretending to _still_ be upset about it, when it’s almost over.

Besides, it’s not like Alec is really _upset_ about it, per se. It’d be kinda dumb to complain about having his boyfriend whisk him away to Paris for a week and put them up in a goddamn castle.

Or, no, not a ‘castle’. Magnus said it’s not a castle, and Alec’s going to believe him. It’s a castle-adjacent place. It’s castle-ish. Castle-esque.

And it’s technically not in Paris, either. It’s nearby. They’re just spending the majority of their time in Paris, so Alec hasn’t bothered remembering how to pronounce the name of this other city (he can only handle Magnus correcting him so many times).

That’s actually the strangest part of the whole week, honestly. They have this giant, _giant_ building. All to themselves. It’s the most lavish ‘house’ Alec has ever seen in his entire life. And they’ve barely been here. They come back here after spending all fucking day in the city, they go to sleep, they wake up, and they leave again. They don’t even have breakfast here, because every single morning there’s been a different sidewalk cafe that Magnus said Alec just _has_ to try. Alec can’t help but be more than a little horrified when he thinks about how much money Magnus has spent for them to spend only a couple of hours a day in a place like _this._

Then again, maybe Magnus just… owns this place. He owns some sort of home in every major city from Chicago to Tokyo, so it wouldn’t be terribly surprising for him to own an almost-castle in almost-Paris. Magnus certainly seems to know his way around this place. He hasn’t gotten lost once (Alec’s gotten lost three times already, just trying to find a damn bathroom).

And not only does Magnus know how to get around, he also _definitely_ knows all of the rooms. In detail. There are so many damn rooms in this place that Alec hasn’t even bothered trying to keep count.

Until today.

Because with Magnus’s _extensive_ knowledge of the layout, and the utter lack of time they’ve spent in this place so far, well…

Naturally, that led to them devoting the entire sixth day of their trip to trying to have sex in every single room.

It’s almost midnight. And Alec thinks there’s still an entire _wing_ they haven’t gotten to yet.

But they can’t keep doing this. It’s physically impossible. It’s already taken _multiple_ uses of his stamina rune, all of Magnus’s extensive knowledge of sex magic, and even some mundane erection pills that Jace had gotten them as an anniversary present (obviously as a joke… and Alec can’t help but wonder how horrified he’d be if he saw how much of a dent they’ve made in the bottle), just for them to make it this far. It’s been all day. Literally _all day._ It had started with nice, sleepy fooling around in bed, right after they’d woken up.

And it’s gotten significantly more _interesting_ since then. They’ve done just about everything Alec can think of. Every sex act he knows, in every position, in every possible combination, in more rooms than Alec could possibly wrap his mind around. In the past eighteen hours, Alec’s probably had more sex than he’s had in the rest of his life combined.

And he’s loved every minute of it.

They’re in one of the living rooms now (Alec knows there’s gotta be a fancier word for it than that, but his brain stopped working several orgasms ago). And even though the room is _filled_ with big, luxurious, comfortable furniture - couches, and squishy armchairs, and those chaise-somethings that look like they were specifically made for people to have sex on them - they’re on the floor.

Alec would laugh if he could catch his breath.

Because they’re honestly, actually, _literally_ sprawled out on some sort of fur rug… in front of a fireplace.

What the fuck? What is his life? What’s happening?

He’s in a castle (but not really), in Paris (but not really), lying face-down on a fur rug, completely naked, in front of a crackling fire, breathless because he’s just had sex with his gorgeous, equally naked boyfriend.

This isn’t life. This is a romance novel.

Hell, if Alec read this in a romance novel, he still wouldn’t believe it. He’d think it’s unrealistic. Too cliched.

Magnus is still getting himself back under control. Breathing sounds like it’s a bit more challenging for him than it is for Alec - though that makes sense, since this particular time, Alec doesn’t think he moved _once_. Between the two of them, Magnus was definitely the one doing the work. And he’s still moaning a bit. He’s still… shifting. He’s on his side, with his head propped up on his folded arm, pressed right up against Alec, and still… grinding, just a little. Like he’s not _quite_ ready to be done with this orgasm yet. He’s rubbing his thigh against Alec’s ass. Pressing his face to Alec’s shoulder. And running his hand…

Alec hums. He wants to moan, but his throat won’t let him.

Magnus is running his fingers along Alec’s spine. Back and forth. Over and over again.

He’s running his fingers through his own come. Letting Alec feel it on his skin, keeping a hint of magic in his fingers so it doesn’t start cooling yet. Keeping it warm on Alec’s back.

By the Angel. What did Alec ever do to deserve this? To deserve him?

Magnus sighs, with his mouth still against Alec’s shoulder. He keeps moving his hand. “Angel, do you want me to-?”

Alec tries to cut him off with some sort of _word,_ but all that comes out is a weird, guttural groan. He swallows a few times, trying to make his throat semi-functional again. “Nuh-uh,” is the best he can manage.

Because he knows what Magnus means. Alec didn’t come this time. Even though it had felt _so good,_ even though Magnus fucked him so good, for so long, he’d worried that he might actually black out at one point, he hadn’t come. He’d barely even gotten hard, and that had only lasted a few minutes. It just… wasn’t possible. His stamina rune is still burning, Magnus is too tired for any intense magic, and Alec’s officially reached a point with the pills that’s dangerously close to overdosing. It’s not gonna happen again. He’s done.

“F’you want, I’ll do something else for you,” Alec mumbles, trying his best to sound sincere and coherent, “but if I have one more orgasm tonight, my dick’s gonna fall off.”

Magnus gasps, somehow managing to make it both quiet and melodramatic. “Heaven forbid,” he whispers, sounding completely scandalized.

Alec laughs, but no real sound comes out. He just feels his shoulders move a little.

Magnus shifts his face down into the crook of Alec’s neck (though Alec thinks he must get a mouthful of rug like that), and keeps breathing. Loud and labored at first, but eventually… easier.

And the whole time, he keeps moving his fingers. Back and forth, back and forth, so Alec can still feel…

“Want me to clean you up?” Magnus offers quietly, what must be at least a few minutes later.

Alec frowns. How can Magnus have enough energy for that? It’s not exactly a _small_ task right now. Alec’s covered in an entire day’s worth of sweat that he didn’t think to wipe away, lube that he didn’t think to wash off, and come…

By the Angel. By now, there’s gotta be come on every damn inch of him. Both Magnus’s and his own. Because each time, unless one of them chose to lick it off of him… Alec left it right where it was. Let it dry wherever it landed, let Magnus rub it into his skin, like he’s doing now.

It’s fucking disgusting. Alec is _disgusting_ right now. Even if Magnus had all of his magic available to him, Alec thinks it still wouldn’t be enough to completely clean him up. He’s as sticky as the floor of a cheap movie theater. He needs a shower. Possibly several showers. He can’t remember what clean skin feels like anymore.

But if Magnus _does_ have enough magic, just to clean up the mess on Alec’s back-

“No,” Alec says, trying not to sound desperate. “No, leave that.”

Oh. That was… that was a dumb way to phrase it. He’s not giving orders on a mission.

“Um… if that’s okay,” he amends, trying to sound as non-forceful as possible. “You don’t have to-” he doesn’t know how to say it without making himself blush, so he just… moves his back a little. “I know I’m gross right now. You can stop.”

Magnus doesn’t say anything. He just hums quietly, and-

Presses his fingers a little harder against Alec’s back.

Alec tries not to smile - but there wasn’t really much hope for _that._ So he tries to make sure it’s not too dopey of a smile instead.

Magnus lets a few more minutes pass again before he breaks the peaceful, satisfied silence. “So, have I made up for yesterday? The opera?”

That’s-

That’s so unexpected that Alec scoffs before he can think better of it. Is _that_ what Magnus has been trying to do all day? Alec wasn’t aware. “Of course not. I’m never forgiving you for that. It was traumatizing,” he explains plainly.

Magnus makes an unhappy little noise and somehow tries to snuggle even _closer_ to Alec. “Darling, I’ve _told_ you, it was unintentional.” He tangles their legs together, like it’ll somehow help his cause. “I _promise,_ I honestly didn’t know that nephilim cultural detachment runs so deep that you didn’t already know the plot of ‘Romeo and Juliet’. I genuinely didn’t think it would be a surprise-”

“Yeah, I knew _they_ were gonna die,” Alec retorts, for what must be the dozenth time since they left the opera house last night, “I just didn’t know _everyone else_ was gonna die too.” He huffs, and doesn’t have the energy to care about how petulant it sounds. “You could have warned me before I started picking favorite characters.”

“It’s not _everyone,_ ” Magnus says, sounding a bit less apologetic and a bit more exasperated. He moves his face a little further away from Alec’s neck, so he’s not trying to talk directly into his skin. “It’s barely even a handful. The opera has fewer deaths than the original play, even.”

“How’s that supposed to make me feel better?” Alec shifts his face against the pillow of his folded arms, trying to find a better angle for Magnus to see how unimpressed he is.

“I’m _sorry,_ darling. I’ve said how sorry I am. Many times.” Magnus continues his efforts to cuddle himself out of trouble, rubbing his fingers even more firmly against Alec’s spine and wrapping his leg up closer to Alec’s ass, like he’s trying to cage him in. “A lot of people don’t even pay attention to the plot when they see an opera. I didn’t know you’d latch onto the story quite so _passionately_.”

Alec laughs, dry and humorless. “Yeah, a story about kids who wind up helpless and miserable because their parents refuse to let them love someone, 'cause they hate them for a dumb, arbitrary reason.” Alec raises his eyebrows. “Why would that resonate with _me_ at all?”

Magnus takes a breath, like he’s going to respond…

But he sighs it out instead. “Admittedly, I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

Alec hums smugly, because that basically means he won. So he gives in to Magnus’s cuddling, and scootches himself a little closer. He folds his arms tighter together, so he can nuzzle his face into Magnus’s messy hair. “But I don’t know how far the metaphor extends. Would you be Romeo, or Juliet?”

Magnus scoffs. “Darling, if I identify with anyone in that story, it is _obviously_ Mercutio. Aggressively bisexual, with a cute little boyfriend.”

Alec laughs as best he can - considering that he’s never experienced this level of exhaustion before in his entire life. He gnaws at his lower lip for a moment, thinking. “Does that mean Camille is Tybalt?”

Magnus lets out one loud, surprised laugh, then dissolves into a string of little _cackles._ “Yes. Perfect.” He makes another sound, and even though Alec’s eyes are closed, he can somehow _hear_ that Magnus is smirking. “But let’s not fool ourselves, darling. We both know where your interests _truly_ were last night.” His touch on Alec’s back gets lighter. Teasing. “I saw the way you looked at Romeo.”

“He was _naked,_ Magnus!” Alec pushes himself up onto his elbows (which is the most moving he’s done since this particular round of sex started), making sure Magnus is looking up at his outraged face. “It’s not my fault that I wasn’t expecting there to suddenly be a naked man in a stuffy old _opera._ You didn’t tell me that was going to happen.” Alec works his jaw for a moment, fighting off a blush. “It was just surprising. It had nothing to do with _him._ I don’t even remember what his _face_ looked like.”

Magnus laughs again, but gentler this time. “Sweetheart, it’s not as though I snuck backstage and told him to take off his pants just to startle you. I was not involved.”

He waits for a moment, taking in Alec’s thoroughly displeased expression, then he rolls his eyes. “ _Alexander,_ ” he says, with a hint of exasperation, “come back here. You’re too far away.”

Alec fights his smile… but once again, it’s pretty much pointless. Magnus’s leg is still wound up around Alec’s thighs. They’re pressed together basically from feet to chest. Completely naked. The few _inches_ of distance between their faces is literally the _only_ distance between them, anywhere.

And it’s still too much distance for Magnus.

Alec almost wants to move even further away, just to be annoying. But-

No. No, he _really_ doesn’t.

He lays his head back down on his arms, keeping his face as close to Magnus’s as possible. He tilts his hips a little, so he can slip one leg between Magnus’s. The way they’re arranged, Magnus is blocking most of the heat from the fireplace (and Alec has to smother a laugh again when he remembers the _actual fireplace_ they’d just had sex in front of), but just enough is still getting to Alec to keep him warm. Especially with Magnus’s body heat pressed right up against him.

Magnus makes a deep, quietly thrilled sound as Alec snuggles up to him. He finally takes his hand away from Alec’s back, and after a quick moment of hesitation, brings it up and starts running his fingers through Alec’s hair. So slowly, and gently.

Some instinct buried all the way in the back of Alec’s mind tries to tell him that he should be upset that Magnus is getting semen in his hair-

Then again, it’s not like it’s the first time it’s happened today. It’s not like this will really make any difference in how much Alec needs to take a fucking shower. He’s already reached the maximum level of grossness, he might as well enjoy this free pass while he can.

Especially because the idea of getting up to shower, getting up for _any_ reason, sounds horrific right now. He could fall asleep like this.

He thinks they could both fall asleep like this. Gross, and sticky, and sweaty (and not getting any _less_ sweaty, with the fire so close to them), and absolutely _exhausted_ from the ridiculous day they just had, and still covered in the splotchy remnants of last night’s makeup that they’d never bothered to wash off this morning, and completely naked…

And so, _so_ happy.

Well, Alec can’t speak for Magnus. But if he's even half as happy as Alec is right now, he’d be perfectly fine falling asleep like this.

But they’ve made a point of trying out different bedrooms each night, trying to make an educated decision about which is the most comfortable so they can sleep in that one on their last night here. And there’s still more bedrooms for them to try than there are nights before they go back-

Oh.

Fuck.

Alec’s been trying not to think about that. It’s been his rule. Literally _no_ thoughts about going home. No thoughts about the Institute. No thoughts about work. Definitely no thoughts about Robert and Maryse, and how openly furious they’d been about this trip.

The only connection he’s had to New York at all this week are the updates he gets from Izzy, Jace, and Clary (well, basically just Izzy and Clary, since Jace is fucking _horrible_ at carrying on conversations without day-long gaps between texts). And even then, it’s been pretty sparse. They’re really putting in an effort to not take any time away from Alec’s vacation. Actually, it’s mostly just updates about Chairman Meow - because Magnus _insists_ on getting a picture of him with full dishes of food and water every time one of them stops by to feed him. One of them sends a picture of the Chairman getting his meal, and Alec and Magnus send back a picture of wherever they happen to be (not including today, obviously). It’s been…

It’s been nice. Fuck, it’s been really nice.

But now the vacation bubble is starting to burst. Because Alec’s thinking about it again.

“How much time do we have left?” he asks quietly, hoping he’s not completely destroying the mood by bringing it up.

“Mm,” Magnus’s eyes are closed, but he gets a little crease between his eyebrows, like he’s thinking about it. “Fifty-five hours? Fifty-four?” He purses his lips. “It depends on how long this particular fuck lasted. I’ve lost track of time.”

Alec feels his face start to heat up, just because Magnus referenced the sex they’d literally _just had._ But he forces himself to stay calm. “It might be fifty-three then,” he says, fighting to keep his voice from cracking. “I think this was the longest one of the day.”

“Oh no, darling,” Magnus’s mouth curls up into a smirk, even though his voice is calm and dispassionate. “The longest was when you were rimming me in the upstairs library. Longest by _far._ ”

Alec’s whole goddamn body heats up so fast he’s afraid he might set the rug on fire. And he realizes that since they’re pressed together like this, Magnus can _feel_ the blush spread across his face and chest, which just makes him blush _harder._

Because, now that he thinks about it… Magnus is definitely right. That time lasted _much_ longer than this one. They’d made it a test, to see which would happen first: if Magnus would be able to come, just from that, or if he’d give in and beg Alec to fuck him (and completely unsurprising for both of them, Magnus had come from just that, and then begged Alec to fuck him anyway).

Alec’s body is still burning as hot as the last few logs in the fireplace. But, since it’s already this bad, since it’s not like he can get any _more_ embarrassed than this… he might as well lean into it. “So, um. Wh-what was… Which time do you think we finished the fastest?”

Magnus opens his eyes, and he looks _delighted._ He hasn’t bothered wasting any magic on glamouring his eyes today, and they look particularly beautiful in the low, flickering light. “Why, sweetheart, that was obviously the time in the bedroom with the squeaky mattress.” His smirk changes from looking playful to looking like a particularly hungry shark, and he tugs at Alec’s hair, just a bit. “Honestly, I should be downright embarrassed about how quickly I came that time. But, of course, I've been waiting _months_ to finally see a live performance of your video…” And because he’s the worst person on earth, he shifts his legs against Alec’s, pulling their hips closer together-

Well, so much for not being able to get more embarrassed.

“Mags-” Alec chokes on his own spit. It’s like his face gets so hot that it circles around and starts feeling cold again. He’s doesn’t think his heart is beating, but his body is so numb with horror that he’s not sure he’d be able to tell either way. He tries to speak. He doesn’t know what he wants to say, but he tries. He tries. He tries to get out one single coherent word.

He stutters for about ten seconds before Magnus _finally_ takes pity on him. He chuckles, and presses a tiny little kiss to the tip of Alec’s nose. “Breathe, darling. I’m only teasing.” He frowns. “Well, I’m not. I’m perfectly serious. But you know what I mean.”

And he shifts again, until his forehead is pressed to Alec’s, and his hand his lightly trailing through Alec’s hair instead of tugging it, and he’s just… breathing. Slow, and deep, and calm.

And without really meaning to, Alec matches the rhythm of his breaths. It only takes a handful of seconds for it to calm him down completely. Until they’re both relaxed. And sleepy. Cuddled together on the floor. Still naked, still desperately in need of cleaning up. But not caring.

Alec closes his eyes - and he’s only _slightly_ worried that he’ll drift off to sleep the moment he does it.

He can’t quite take his mind off of what Magnus just said. Well, not what he’d _just_ said - since Alec’s pretty sure he’ll never be able to think about that particular experience again for as long as he lives without giving himself an embarrassment-induced heart attack. But the rest of it. The rest of this ridiculous, stupid, amazing day. When he was being held up in Magnus’s arms, when Magnus had fucked him up against the massive china hutch in the dining room, and neither of them were completely confident that they weren’t going to knock it over before they were done. When Magnus was straddling his lap, and they were smushed together on an antique sofa that should _not_ have been used quite that roughly, and Alec had said something so stupid that neither of them could stop laughing, until their fit of giggles had gotten so bad that they’d literally given up before either of them finished. When they had sprawled out on the plush, curved staircase in the entryway, because apparently they couldn’t wait thirty seconds to get to the next room? Somehow they’d decided that they absolutely _needed_ to stop, right there on the stairs, so Alec could get Magnus’s cock in his mouth as quickly as possible.

And this time, the time that just happened. On a fur rug. In front of a fireplace. When Alec hadn’t had to do _anything._ Lying on his stomach, completely limp and useless, with Magnus tugging and arranging his limbs when he needed to. Alec not needing to do a damn thing. Not having to worry about doing something wrong, or messing it up. Not having to worry about anything. Just lying there, useless, powerless… being loved. Without having to do anything to earn it. Magnus loving him, taking him, just because he wanted to. Loving him so well, for such a long time, neither of them even know what time it is anymore. It might be midnight. It might be almost dawn.

Oh, but wondering about the time is just gonna make Alec start thinking about…  

Fifty-five hours.

Well, give or take.

Just a little over two days.

Alec knows that’s still a lot. Fuck, it’s still more time than he’s ever had on a real vacation before. Even the precious last hours of this trip are still so much more than he’s ever had. He’s never…

Damn. He’s _never_ had a vacation before. Yeah, when they were younger, Maryse and Robert would take them to Idris for a few days. But that wasn’t for fun. That was because they needed to be there. And since Alec and his siblings were too young to be allowed in the Clave meetings, they _accidentally_ wound up with a handful of hours a day to do whatever they wanted (within strict nephilim reason, of course).

Alec’s never gone somewhere just for the sake of… being there. Sightseeing. Walking around a strange city just to _look_ at it. Having day after day after day after _day_ with nothing he has to do, no responsibilities, no job, no nothing. Endless hours where he’s allowed to do whatever the fuck he wants, just for the fuck of it. It’s been…

He sighs quietly, and untucks one of his arms from under his face, so he can wrap it around Magnus’s waist instead.

It’s more than just the ‘vacation’ thing. He knows that. It’s not just that he’s in this famous, romantic city, with all this stuff to do, with someone who knows all the best restaurants and all the best places to go and - most importantly - can _pay_ for them to do all of it without batting an eye. Yeah, all of that is fucking incredible, but…

He’s been in a foreign city. For almost a week now. Six days.

Six whole days away from the Institute. Six days where he’s never seen anyone he knows, except for Magnus. Six days where he’s not accountable for anything. He can do whatever he wants, and no one will know.

So no one will know that he wore his brightest lipstick yesterday. Bright, vibrant red. Right on his lips. Out in public, all day. There was glitter in his eyeshadow and _bright red_ on his lips. This week, he’s worn some of Magnus’s necklaces, just to see what it's like. He’s borrowed one of Magnus's less bulky rings. He’s been pretty. Extra pretty. Just because he can.

He can do it, and he has been doing it. All week. This entire week, he’s been so carefully made-up. Wearing soft clothes and bright colors and even _jewels._ He’s been so pretty. And he doesn’t have to give a shit about what anyone’s thinking. Because no one notices him. No one gives him a second glance.

Partially, it’s because these people don’t know him.

But also, it’s partially because he’s with Magnus.

No one ever looks at him when he’s with Magnus. And that’s perfectly understandable. Because regardless of what it is about Alec’s appearance that would make them stare, Magnus looks the same way, but tenfold. If it’s bad, and they're judging a man for wearing makeup and jewelry and lace, Magnus is always more ornate than Alec. And if it’s good, if they’re staring because they like it, because he looks pretty, well. Magnus is a thousand times more beautiful than Alec. There’s no reason for anyone to look twice at Alec when he’s standing next to Magnus.

And it’s so… freeing. Because Magnus knows what to do with that attention. He knows how to deal with it and react to it and process it, and it’s all fine. The good and the bad. He can handle it.

So he can handle it for Alec, too.

Alec can wear red lipstick, and a necklace with a dozen little rubies, and a black chiffon button-up with a red lace tank top underneath it. He can wear all of that, out on the street, at a cafe, at an opera house… and it’s fine. It’s allowed. All week, he’s been allowed to be as pretty as he damn well pleases. And the only reaction he has to deal with is Magnus’s smile. Day after day after day of prettiness. And Magnus.

Hell, even a day like today, a day when Alec has worn clothes for maybe two hours total (the brief times when it was absolutely necessary for them to take a break and have some food), he was still pretty. He’d just put on one of Magnus’s silk robes. He’d picked a burgundy one, since he knew it would match the leftover makeup still smeared on his face from the night before. Every moment of this trip, Alec has been pretty.

Even now. Stretched out on this soft rug, naked, absolutely _filthy_ from head to toe, he still feels pretty.

It might be because he can still feel those last remnants of makeup on his face. He doesn’t feel bare. Even with how gross he is right now, part of him still feels made-up. Or maybe it’s because as he opens his eyes to watch his hand stroke lightly along Magnus’s side, he can see his nail polish catch the light from the fireplace.

(Alec doesn’t think he’s ever seen Magnus quite as _loudly_ happy as he was when they wandered toward Notre Dame five days ago, and Alec had pointed to the stand across the street. The same woman, still selling her religiously-unapproved nail polishes, after all this time. Alec had quietly examined the rest of the colors while Magnus _ecstatically_ bought out her entire supply of _Vin de Messe_ \- which Alec had just happened to be wearing at the time - and one color had caught his eye right away. Pale gold, with just enough shimmer to really sparkle in the sunlight. So beautiful, Alec could barely stand it. He'd felt a strange twinge of nerves when he picked it up, like it was crossing a line, like it was too soft, too delicate, too pretty. Too nice for him. But then he’d asked what it was called, just out of curiosity. And, well, it’s not like there was _any_ chance Magnus would let him pass it up when she’d told them the name. _Mon Bon Ange._ My Good Angel.)

There’s this beautiful, _beautiful_ gold polish on his nails, glittering every time he moves his fingers. And there’s makeup smudged on his face. Even though he’s completely naked - and he’s been completely naked for most of the day - he’s still pretty. And that’s-

Huh. He hasn’t really thought about it like that. But now… yeah. He realizes that he feels pretty, even though he’s naked. Right now, like this, his naked body is pretty. And…

That’s definitely new.

But Alec doesn’t think it’s… he doesn’t think anything’s _changed,_ really. It’s not like he actually thinks his body is any better than it used to be. It’s just that right now, today, with how things have been going…

It’s been six days. He’s been pretty for six whole days. The entire time. Never having to worry about going too far. Never getting a negative reaction for it. Never having to take off his makeup before a specific person can see it, never having to change out of his lace shirt that doesn’t cover his stomach to put on a ratty old t-shirt instead. Never having to be anything other than pretty. As pretty as he can be.

For six days. Without stop. It’s almost like he’s… used to it now. He’s been lulled into thinking that he _always_ feels like this. So that even now, when he knows he looks like shit, he still feels pretty. Because it’s what he’s been feeling all week.

It’s really fucking nice.

Even though he knows it’s not going to last. In two days, the trip will end, and he’ll have to go home, and he’ll have to stop being this pretty, and he’ll have to say goodbye to Magnus. For the first time in over a week.

He hasn’t had to say goodbye to Magnus in six days. Hell, a few times they didn't even say goodnight to each other, they just kept talking until one of them drifted off (usually Magnus). He’s been with Magnus all week.

Alec doesn’t think he’s _ever_ spent this much time with one person before. Even though he’s been spending more nights at the loft than the Institute lately, he’s never been there _six nights_ in a row. He hasn’t slept in the same bed with someone this much since he was a kid, when he and Jace would sneak into each other’s rooms so they could stay up talking after lights out.

But hell, even then, he and Jace still spent a lot of time apart during the day. He and Magnus have spent _every fucking minute_ together since they got here. They haven’t really had the choice - it’s not like Magnus is going to abandon Alec somewhere in a strange country so he can go do other things. Which means…

Which means that this is the first time in over a year that they’ve spent enough time together to get… annoyed. Sick of each other. Not a lot. Not even a _little,_ really. Just… sometimes. It’s not like it’s bad, and they can’t stand each other. It’s just once in awhile, the excitement wears off, and there’s a palpable awareness that they’re _still_ only spending time with each other, after all these days. It goes away quickly (taking their morning showers separate instead of together, splitting up for a bit when they’re wandering through a shop, even just letting there be a longer gap than usual in a conversation), and it doesn’t cause any problems, but still. It’s new.

Except, Alec almost, sort of… likes it.

It sounds horrible. He’s probably an idiot for thinking it. But he likes knowing that they can get sick of each other and not have to… worry. They can let it happen. Let it go away. Let it fix itself, without it being a big deal. Alec likes knowing that things can be less-than-perfect, without being bad. It’s comforting. It feels safer, somehow.

Also, he just likes the fact that they’ve _finally_ spent enough time together to reach this point. Up until now, it’s always been such a struggle to see each other. Fitting together their schedules, scraping together enough time for a real ‘date’, taking what they can get. It’s normal for them to go days or even _weeks_ without seeing each other in person. Alec’s grateful just to fall asleep alone in Magnus’s bed, and sort-of wake up when Magnus eventually settles in next to him in the middle of the night. Kissing Magnus goodbye at the crack of dawn, and getting to hear his sleepy gibberish in response. That’s what he’s used to getting.

And now, it’s _constant._

And it’s definitely an improvement.

Being with Magnus all day. Eating meals together, not because it’s the only time they could find for a date, but just because they're hungry, and they’re already together. Getting to do things that aren’t important. Going shopping without it being Alec’s _one_ chance to let Magnus buy him something nice. Walking around the city for hours with no destination in mind, because they don’t have a limited amount of time. Having all these little moments that aren’t important, that aren’t special or meaningful, because they don’t _have_ to be. Having enough time to get to _waste_ time.

It’s new for them. And it’s amazing.

Some of it is specific to Paris. Alec’s aware of that. He’s been _very_ aware, all week, that a lot of this niceness has something to do with how out of his element he is in this city. He doesn’t know where anything is. He doesn’t know where to go, or what to do. He doesn’t speak the language.

Which means Magnus gets to do it all. Magnus takes them to places he’s already been. Magnus picks the restaurants he knows are the best. Magnus orders for Alec, because he can talk to the waiter. Magnus talks to the shopkeepers for Alec, because he can ask them any questions that Alec has. Magnus talks to everyone. For Alec.

It’s a weird thought. But it’s not like Magnus is choosing what to _say_ for Alec. He’s just translating. But it means that… Alec doesn’t have to worry. About phrasing anything in a stupid way. About stuttering, or tripping over his words. About something sounding good in his head, but then coming out wrong. He can let Magnus talk for him. Because Magnus understands what he wants to say. Alec can trust Magnus to speak for him, and do it right. Better than… better than Alec can speak for himself, even.

So he doesn’t have to worry about speaking right and he doesn’t have to worry about what they’re doing and he doesn’t have to worry about how much time they’re taking and he doesn’t have to worry about how pretty he is and-

And godfuckingdammit how the fucking _fuck_ is he going to survive going back to the Institute after _this?_

Magnus makes an unhappy little noise. “Darling, how can you _possibly_ be so tense right now? Surely by now we must have managed to fuck all the stress out of you.”

Alec laughs - but only in hopes that it’ll keep him from blushing. “No, I just-” his voice chokes off. He can tell he wants to say something, but he’s not sure what it is yet. He takes a breath, and tries again. “It’s… Only fifty-five hours left. I’m just… I know that’s a lot of time, but still.” He sighs out through his nose. “I like… this. I like being here. I like…” he shifts his face a bit, like he’s trying to hide himself in the rug, even though his eyes are closed again and he can’t see Magnus anyway. “I like getting to spend this much time with you. It’s a lot- a lot more than we usually…”

Goddammit, why is this so fucking difficult? It’s just _words._ He’s feeling so _much_ right now; why can’t he get _any_ of it out of his fucking mouth?

“I… I re-” he takes another breath, and hopes Magnus can’t tell how frustrating this is for him. “I really love being with you.”

Oh.

That was… yeah. That was good.

Well, maybe not _good,_ but it was at least accurate.

Alec opens his eyes, suddenly overwhelmed with how much he wants to _see_ Magnus again, instead of just feeling the heat from his body and his breath on Alec’s face. He tilts his head a bit-

And Magnus is already looking at him.

By the Angel.

It’s been a year now. Hell, it’s been _more_ than a year. But Alec still can’t…

He still can’t keep his heart from speeding up when he sees Magnus looking at him like this. His gold eyes so close, so open, so focused. On him. And nothing else. Every time Alec sees it…

Except.

Except now that he thinks about it, Alec doesn’t think he’s ever seen Magnus look at him like _this._ Not quite like this. This much… intensity. This much seriousness.

This much love.

His hand is still resting on Alec’s head, still trailing lazily through his hair. But as he keeps looking at Alec like this, his hand stops moving. So his fingers are still in Alec’s hair, but his palm is cupping Alec’s jaw. His hand is so warm.

And he’s still looking at Alec.

Alec wants to tell him. Needs to tell him. How much he loves him. He needs to say it.

But he’s afraid his voice will give out. He doesn’t know why, but for some reason, seeing Magnus just _look_ at him like this, second after second, he feels… shy. Like anything he could say would be so inadequate compared to the look in Magnus’s eyes.

So Alec just smiles, as best he can, and says, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to go back to the Institute after this. It’s gonna suck.” It’s silly. And it’s weak. Especially in a moment like this.

But it’s true.

Magnus just keeps… looking at him. For what feels like it could be _minutes._ And then, he quietly says, “Then don’t.”

And Alec…

Alec doesn’t know what to do with that. “What?”

Magnus brushes his thumb across Alec’s cheek. His look changes a bit, no less intense, but somehow… What is that? Is he…

He can’t be _nervous,_ can he?

“Don’t go back to the Institute.”

Alec chuckles, since he doesn’t know what else to do. “Mags, it was hard enough to get away for a week. If I stay any longer, they’re gonna hunt me down-”

“No, I mean,” Magnus interrupts with a little smile - and, when was the last time Magnus had to clarify what he means? He keeps stroking his thumb across Alec’s cheek. Keeps looking at him. “Don’t go _home_ to the Institute. Come home to the loft.”

Alec’s heart twists up, like it’s somehow racing and skipping beats simultaneously. Because that… that almost sounds like…

“Magnus?”

Magnus smiles again, that little smile that would look almost _shy_ if it weren’t so ridiculous to think that Magnus Bane could be shy about anything. “Move in with me, Alexander.”

Alec feels something, deep in his stomach. It’s…

It doesn’t really feel like surprise? Not entirely, anyway. They haven’t actually _talked_ about it before, but they’ve sort of… skirted around the idea. Never ‘What would it be like if we lived together?’ but sometimes ‘Wouldn’t it be nice if you didn’t have to leave?’ or ‘I sleep better when you’re here.’ Magnus has dropped… hints. Alec’s section of the bedroom closet has been getting bigger and bigger. The kitchen is always stocked with food, not magicked up as needed. Magnus has ‘casually’ mentioned _several_ times that even when Alec isn’t there, Chairman Meow still sleeps at the foot of the bed, instead of taking back the spot Alec has stolen from him.

But he’s never actually…

And Alec had just assumed that if they’d made it this far, if they’ve been together for over a year now, and Magnus _still_ hadn’t actually talked about it directly… he must not want it. And now he’s-

Alec’s thought about it a lot, in a way. He’s thought about it, but desperately tried _not_ to think about it. Because it seemed stupid to let himself get caught up in wanting something like _that_ when he assumed he’d never have it. But he’s still thought about it. Getting to go back to the loft every night, not just one or two nights a week (if he’s lucky). Getting to feel the way he feels at the loft, getting to feel so safe and accepted and loved… not just once in awhile on days when he can catch a break, but… always. Not as some sort of special treat for himself. Having that just be… his life. Always being allowed to have that. Every day. _Always,_ and-

Shit. Has he still not said anything?

Magnus is still looking at him. But his smile is getting smaller. He’s looking less and less hopeful and more and more…

Nervous.

Like he doesn’t know what Alec’s going to say.

Alec laughs. Well, he tries to laugh. All that comes out is a weak, shaky exhale. But he’s smiling, with his mouth still a little bit open.

Because it honestly looks like Magnus isn’t sure what Alec’s going to say to this. To something like _this._ It’s like he thinks there might be any chance in the world that Alec would say no. By the Angel, how could he _possibly…_

Of course, Alec doesn’t say any of this. He can’t. Because - like always, when there’s something _important_ happening - Alec’s whole body shuts down. He can’t think of any words. Can’t remember how to nod. He’s still just… looking at Magnus. Watching Magnus watch him. Smiling, a little bit.

And, of course, the first word he can get out of his mouth is just, “Yeah.”

It’s _woefully_ inadequate. What’s being offered to him… and he just says _yeah._ It’s pathetic.

Magnus’s smile gets bigger. But just a little bit. And his eyebrows tilt up, enough to wrinkle his forehead. “Really?”

This time, Alec actually does manage a genuine laugh. Because he’s not sure if he’s ever been on this side of that question. He doesn’t think it’s ever been _his_ job to smile, and move his face in a little closer, and say, “Really.”

It kinda sounds like Magnus starts to say something, but he must change his mind pretty quickly, because he’s kissing Alec before an actual word can get out.

And it’s such a nice kiss. Slow, and easy, but there’s just… so _much_ to it. So much weight behind it. Because…

Fuck.

Because this is a big deal.

This is a fucking _huge_ deal. They’ve just-

Alec feels Magnus smile against his lips, and it makes him laugh a little into the kiss. Magnus must be aware of it too. He must be aware of the fact that they’ve just done something big. They’ve just… _fuck._ They just decided to _live together._ That’s a legitimate, important, actually life-changing decision.

And they made it while they’re bare-ass naked on the floor of a castle in Paris.

It should probably be a… discussion or something. They should sit down and talk about it seriously. The decision is a big deal, so _making_ the decision should be a big deal too. Not half a dozen words whispered to each other on a post-coital vacation high.

But somehow, that just…

Makes sense.

Alec doesn’t need a serious discussion to know he wants to do this. To know this is the best thing he could possibly do. Hell, he probably could have made the decision with even _less_ , if that were possible. He doesn’t need to think about this. He knows.

And really, when he considers their current situation… that makes sense too. It may not be the most _normal_ setting for life-changing decisions, but still. He’s comfortable. He’s happy. He’s pretty. He’s loved. He feels all of it, all at once, more than he’s ever felt _any_ of it in his entire life. So, honestly, it’s the perfect time and place to realize that he can still have this. Every day.

Every day.

At some point, Alec must have shifted, because now he’s on his side instead of his stomach, and Magnus is completely pressed to him. Still kissing him. Achingly tender kisses. And this is…

This is Alec’s life now.

Yeah, they’ll leave Paris. They’ll leave this ridiculous castle and the vacation will end and they’ll go back to real life. Back to their jobs, and their horrific schedules. Alec will go back to the Institute. Back to his parents and his responsibilities and his horrible gray clothes and the people who don’t bother to hide their disdain and disapproval when they see anything pretty on his face.

But then, he’ll get to go home.

Every single day, once everything else is over, he’ll get to go back to the loft. Back to Magnus.

Alec makes a stupid sound before he can even try to stop himself.

But Magnus doesn’t seem to mind, since he just deepens the kiss. And he gently pushes Alec over onto his back, so he can settle himself between Alec’s legs.

And it’s good, it’s really good, and with everything else it’s so good it’s overwhelming, and Alec doesn’t know how he’s supposed to handle all of this without passing out right here on the rug, but then-

“Mm-Mags-” he mutters between kisses (which are getting _significantly_ more heated), “I wa- I was serious, before.” He turns his face a bit so Magnus will have to let him get out a full sentence. “Please don’t make my dick fall off.” Because this is getting a little too good, and Magnus’s kisses are getting a little too deep, and his hips are pressed a little too firmly against Alec’s poor, overused crotch. He’s pretty sure he’s gonna feel overstimulated for a few _months_ after this.

Magnus makes what was probably supposed to be a sympathetic hum, but the giggles that break it up make it sound _very_ insincere. With Alec’s mouth out of his reach, he gives all his kissing attention to his cheek and jaw instead. “Don’t worry, darling,” he says in an obviously teasing tone, “I’ll fix it for you when we go home.”

Alec somehow manages to laugh and groan at the same time - because it’s a funny idea, but he’d really rather avoid getting his dick so broken that it actually needs to be _fixed._ But… more than that…

Alec smiles, and nibbles his lower lip. “When we what?” he asks quietly, hoping he doesn’t sound too stupid for asking.

Magnus lifts his face away. Far enough for Alec to see him. To see that he’s smiling. “When we go home,” he repeats. And…

Hm.

Yeah.

That’s got a nice ring to it.

 

* * *

 

Alec loves using his key.

How could he not? He’s the only one who has one. He’s the only person in the entire world that has an actual key to this loft. Even though Magnus specifically had keys cut just so he could give one to Alec, he hadn’t kept one for himself. He never uses a key. He just… wooshes the door open. Flicks his hand, and it’s locked. Alec is the only one with an actual _key_ to this apartment. And he loves that. He loves getting to let himself in, whenever he wants. He loves having that ability. That right.

But tonight, he loves it even more than usual.

Because he’s not unlocking the door to Magnus’s apartment. He’s unlocking the door to _their_ apartment.

It’s not the first time he’s been here since he moved in. But it’s the first time he’s let himself in. The first time he’s come back after a day at the Institute. The first time he’s come home by himself.

It shouldn’t be any different, really. Alec moved all of his stuff in yesterday (but it’s not like he has much _stuff_ anyway). He slept here. He fell asleep with Magnus wrapped around him. He kissed Magnus goodbye before he left this morning - and Magnus had _almost_ managed to get out a coherent goodbye of his own before falling back to sleep. Alec’s already officially ‘lived’ here for a full day now.

But this is the first time he’s been here alone since this became his home. That’s what’s different. Every other time he’s been here without Magnus, there was such a strong awareness that it was _Magnus’s_ place, not his. He had to respect that. It was… weirdly terrifying.

Now, he’s home.

He'd assumed there would be some sort of… adjustment period. Where he had to get used to the idea that he lives here too, that this place is also _his_ now. Knowing himself, he figured it’d take a nice long while to feel comfortable with that.

But now, standing just inside the door, after a tedious day of mission debriefings and filing reports for the Clave and dealing with his _parents_ lurking around every corner, Alec realizes that he’s-

He’s comfortable here. Comfortable in his home.

He’s just starting to wrestle out of his boots when Chairman Meow seems to appear out of midair to pounce on his toes.

“Excuse me, Chairman,” Alec says gently as he sets down his bag and tries to nudge the cat away, so he can pull off his other boot without getting claws caught in his socks.

The Chairman meows at him. Loudly. Several times.

Fuck. It shouldn’t be so adorable. The Chairman has gotten significantly bigger since Alec first met him, and he’s definitely a fully-grown _cat_ now instead of a tiny kitten. He’s an adult now. His meow shouldn’t _still_ be so small and precious. It’s not fair.

And he doesn’t stop meowing until Alec goes into the kitchen to feed him (because even though Magnus has an automatic feeder that lasts a couple of days, when he’s not planning on being away from the loft he basically _never_ remembers to fill it).

Once that’s taken care of, Alec goes right to the bedroom. And to the closet.

This isn’t exactly _new._ By now, it’s pretty much a habit for him to change his clothes whenever he knows he’s going to be spending the night. Once he knows he’s done for the day, and he’s not going anywhere else, and the only person who’ll see him is Magnus. Then he changes out of his horrible, dark, functional clothes and gear… and picks something else.

He doesn’t think it's too strange. A lot of people wear different things at work than they do at home. Just because his ripped jeans and old t-shirt aren’t technically a ‘uniform’, it doesn’t mean that he can’t justify wanting to wear something different once the work day is done.

Alec flicks on the closet light-

Oh.

Right.

All of his clothes are here.

He’s been steadily leaving more and more clothes here over the past year, so it’s really not a _huge_ difference at this point. But still.

The entire back wall is his now. He’d insisted many times that he doesn’t have enough clothes to fill the entire back wall, but Magnus apparently doesn’t care. Alec can only assume a good chunk of Magnus’s clothes are floating in some sort of magical storage unit right now, just so Alec’s clothes can sparsely cover the rack by themselves. His shoes don’t even come _close_ to filling up the shelf above the hangers. And even though Alec has a ridiculously large quantity of underwear now, each pair is so _small_ that it barely makes sense for him to have one drawer in the dresser to himself, much less two.

But even though it doesn’t make much sense, even though it’s not the most logical use of closet space…

It’s still nice. Seeing _all_ of his clothes, right next to Magnus’s. His boring, nasty work clothes are all shoved to one side, so he doesn’t have to give them much thought. And the rest of it is…

Alec smiles. Because it’s nice. It’s so fucking nice to get to hang up his faded jeans and blank t-shirt, to be left in just a soft, light blue thong, and to choose something else. Whatever he wants. Without having to worry. Without having to _care._

His wardrobe has certainly gotten more… interesting over the past few months. Alec still doesn’t know where Magnus finds half of this stuff. Yeah, sometimes he and Alec actually get to go shopping together, so Alec knows _exactly_ where it comes from. But more often than not, Alec goes to find something in the closet, and there’s something new. Sometimes _several_ somethings. He doesn’t always like it (mercifully Magnus has never bought him anything that can’t be returned), but for the most part, Magnus knows Alec. Knows what he likes.

But that doesn’t make the clothing’s origins any less mysterious.

Well, this tank top isn’t too mysterious. It’s just a maroon tank top. It’s intentionally very loose and flowy, so Alec can’t tell what type of body it was made for. It’s loose, and it’s short enough in the front that it shows off _all_ of Alec’s stomach. But it’s not particularly remarkable. Magnus could have gotten it anywhere.

The shorts, however, are definitely a bit more confusing. Because they’re short. They’re like, _short._ Alec used to wear boxers that were longer than these shorts. Alec’s only ever seen denim shorts like this in women’s clothing stores, but these definitely have… _room,_ in the right places. They were definitely made for a guy to wear. Alec doesn’t know where the fuck Magnus found them.

But it’s not like he’s complaining. And… since it’s still relatively early, and Alec knows he’s gonna get to wear this for a few hours before going to bed…

He might as well…

It’s already a nice outfit. It’s comfortable, and it’s pretty, and he likes it. He doesn’t just like the _feel_ of it, how it feels on his body while he’s wearing it. He likes the _look_ of it. Whenever he happens to glance down. When he catches his reflection in the bathroom mirror, or even the living room windows. He likes looking like this.

So while he has the chance, he might as well go all-out.

Since it’s not a special occasion, and he’s planning on actually _doing_ stuff before going to bed, he chooses one of his less-nice pairs of stockings. One that’s got some runs, and holes in the toes. He keeps his stockings until they’re literally so torn up that they can’t actually cover his legs anymore. After all, it’s not like he wears them out of the house, so it doesn’t matter if they’re a little rough.

He takes them out into the bedroom, so he can sit on the edge of the bed to put them on. This pair isn’t anything special, just skin-colored, with a little bit of that silky shine. His big toe sticks out of one of them, and the other one has a run that goes all the way from his heel to the back of his knee. But he doesn’t mind. He’s not wearing them for the _coverage_ right now.

He’s wearing them because they only go up to his thighs.

And these shorts are so short, they don’t cover his thighs at all.

Alec smiles to himself as he smooths out the tops of the stockings. These ones don’t need garters, they have that tight, sticky-ish elastic on the inside to keep them up. And on the outside, it’s a border of lace. Thick lace, that matches his skin tone.

It’s such a small detail.

But in an outfit like this, he _loves_ it. His shorts end, and then there’s a little band of lace on his legs. Clearly visible. A little bumpy under his fingertips.

It’s probably ridiculous, now that he thinks about it. Wearing nylons with a pair of _shorts._ He’s supposed to wear these with something fancy. He probably looks like an idiot.

Well. If he looks like an idiot, at least he looks like a very pretty idiot.

And besides, who’s going to see him? No one but Magnus. And he knows Magnus won’t mind.

He wore makeup today (since he officially has no more fucks to give about Maryse or Robert seeing it), so that’s already taken care of. But it’s been a _ridiculous_ amount of hours since he’d put it on this morning, and he hasn’t checked on it since. He might want a new coat of lip gloss by now. He goes into the bathroom to give himself a once-over…

And there’s-

Alec sucks in a breath, and feels his jaw tremble.

Because there’s…

There’s two sinks.

Alec blinks, too hard. There was only one sink this morning. There’s been one sink in this bathroom for the past year. There’s only ever been one sink in this bathroom.

And now… there’s two. Spaced evenly in the massive marble countertop. They’re identical, so Alec isn’t sure which one was just moved over a bit, and which one is new.

But he knows which one is his. Because next to the sink on the right (the same as his side of the bed), there’s his makeup case. Sitting right next to the sink. His sink.

Alec doesn’t really register that he’s moving until he’s standing over the sink. Just… looking at it.

And it’s almost kinda stupid. Because it’s a sink. It’s just a fucking sink.

A sink that Magnus put here, just for him. And then he’d dug Alec’s makeup case out from the cupboard, and put it out on the counter. Not sloppily, either. It’s at a nice, presentational angle. It was put there carefully. Next to Alec’s sink.

He makes sure he doesn’t actually _move_ his makeup case as he opens it, and fishes out the lip gloss he’d worn today. He glances up to the mirror-

And he’s smiling.

And he keeps smiling as he reapplies his lip gloss. Because he’s got this pretty makeup (that’s held up remarkably well throughout the day), and his short tank top, and his short shorts, and the border of lace on his thighs… and he’s seeing all of this in the mirror over his sink. In his bathroom. In his home.

Alec shakes his head, trying to snap himself out of… whatever this is, before it can get any worse. He’s got shit to do, after all. He puts away his lip gloss, lets himself have one more look in the mirror…

And he gets to work.

He goes back to the front door to pick up his abandoned shopping bag. It’s not a _full_ load, but it’ll do for now. He knows he can’t afford everything, and he’ll need to convince Magnus to take him on a spree if he wants to get everything on his list, but he can still work with this. He empties the oversized plastic bag on the couch.

Washcloths. A duster. Three spray bottles: bleach, Windex, and an all-purpose cleaner. And a hand-broom and dustpan (he’d wanted to get a full-sized broom, but he didn’t want to have to carry it all the way here from the store).

He smiles. Yeah, this’ll be fine for tonight.

It’s not like the apartment is actually _dirty_ right now. Magnus gives the whole thing a… a magical blue _something,_ every few days. And it gets rid of everything. Dust, crumbs, cobwebs, cat litter, even all the garbage. He does it without a second thought, whenever it's necessary.

Or at least, he _used_ to.

Alec grabs a washcloth, and the Windex.

Because he doesn’t pay rent. Magnus hasn’t actually made a payment on this place in decades. And he’s flat-out refused to let Alec pay anything like the gas or electric bills - since, according to him, the Institute gives Alec a “criminally low” amount of money, and it’d be “cruel and unjust” to make Alec strain himself financially when Magnus absolutely doesn’t need the help. And on top of all _that,_ Magnus just keeps buying him shit. Magnus has been spending ludicrous amounts of money on Alec damn near every day since their first date (though Magnus has explained, many times, that it’s because using his obscene wealth to pamper the shit out of people is one of the only ways he knows how to show affection).

So Alec is doing literally _nothing_ to earn his keep. And back when he was just a guest, he had no choice but to accept that.

But he lives here now. So it’s about damn time for that to change.

He’s just gonna do the inside of the windows, for now. It’s a little chilly out now that the sun’s set. And in this outfit…

He’s always wanted to wash these windows. It’s a dumb thought, it’s a _really_ dumb thought, but it’s true. Because they’re just so _massive._ And Alec doesn’t mind cleaning. He actually kinda likes it. He likes having things clean, and there’s something extra satisfying about knowing he did something to make it that way.

Though after almost an hour goes by at the windows, and he’s _still_ not done, some of the excitement wears off. It’s not bad, but it’s definitely not enjoyable anymore. And it doesn’t help that even _he_ isn’t tall enough to reach the top. Why are the ceilings in here so fucking high? Alec’s not used to needing help to reach things. He tries standing on his tip-toes to see if he can just barely get to the top pane of glass-

The door opens.

And, like the pathetic loser he is, Alec feels his heart speed up a bit. He turns away from the windows.

Magnus is leaning in the doorway, smiling a crooked smile. He raises one eyebrow. “Honey, I’m home?” he suggests, in a playful tone.

Alec smiles back at him, and opens his mouth to-

Holy fuck.

“Holy fuck!”

Magnus is fucking _soaked,_ from head to toe. Well, maybe not soaked; he’s not dripping or anything. But he’s definitely damp. His hair is limp, and falling down onto his face, and his clothes are hanging on him too heavily.

“Mags, by the Angel, are you okay?” Alec drops his rag on the floor and starts toward him-

Magnus shakes his head dismissively. “Fine, darling. It was wave. I wasn’t _in_ the water, it just-” he makes a weak gesture at his face, “hit me.”

Well, fuck, that doesn’t really make it sound much _better_ in Alec’s opinion. He knew Magnus’s evening appointment was with a mermaid, so maybe this is just some sort of occupational water hazard that Magnus was prepared for? But still. He must be _completely_ burned out of magic if he didn’t even use any to dry himself off right away. And, fuck, did he _walk_ all the way back here? In the cold, in wet clothes… in _wet_ clothes - Alec can’t even comprehend how Magnus is so calm about this.

Then again, with how heavily he’s leaning against the doorframe, maybe he’s literally too exhausted to be uncomfortable.

“Here, you should change into something dry.” Alec slips his arm around Magnus’s back to help him get going, and- yep. His clothes are drenched, and cold.

But once Alec’s arm is around him, Magnus gets other ideas, because he sort of… falls against him. Not like he can’t hold himself up, just like he really, _really_ wants a hug. He presses his face against Alec’s neck and breathes in deeply. He rests his hands on Alec’s sides - and Alec has to fight to keep from flinching at how cold they are against his bare skin.

After a few moments, Magnus pulls away just far enough to glance down, presumably at Alec’s outfit. And he groans, loud, and almost petulant. “Why are you so goddamn _cute?”_

Alec chokes on a little laugh, but deflects quickly. “Come on.” He starts leading Magnus toward the bedroom. And to make sure the subject of his appearance is _completely_ ignored, he says, “Hey, I don’t know if you saw, but apparently the bathroom got remodeled today?”

Magnus hums, with only _mild_ interest. “I hadn’t noticed.” He says it casually, but Alec can see him trying to hide a smile.

Alec smiles to himself as he sits Magnus down on the edge of the bed. He runs into the bathroom to grab a clean towel, and then to the closet to pick out a robe for him. He knows Magnus usually prefers one of his many ornate, embroidered silk robes, but Alec manages to find something warm and fluffy that should suit the situation a little better.

When he gets back into the bedroom, Magnus is leaning against the bedpost, struggling to keep his eyes open. Alec can’t imagine how horrified he’ll be when he gets the energy to realize that his wet clothes are probably staining the bedspread.

“You should take a nap,” Alec says as he lays the robe next to Magnus.

“Nnngh.” Magnus frowns. “Alexander, I am over four hundred years old. I do not take _naps._ ”

Alec just barely manages to keep himself from laughing. “Fine. But you definitely need to dry off.” He holds out the towel…

Magnus makes another unhappy sound, and rolls his eyes.

Well, fine then.

Alec spreads the towel out between his hands, and drops it on Magnus’s head.

Magnus jolts a little, and chokes on something that might have been a word-

But he doesn’t actually protest as Alec starts gently ruffling the towel through his hair. And maybe he grumbles a little bit under his breath, but Alec ignores it. “What do you want for dinner?”

Magnus scoffs. “It doesn’t matter,” he says, voice muffled by the towel covering his face, “because whatever it is, I’ll be getting it myself.”

“Hm.” Alec keeps his voice light, keeps softly drying Magnus’s hair. “I mean, you _could,_ but it won’t make much sense, since I’ll have already made it by then.”

“Alexander, you are _not_ going to make dinner for me,” Magnus says with what must be all the force he can muster, but with how tired he is, it’s not much.

Alec pulls back the towel a bit, enough to free Magnus’s face, but still keep his hair covered. “See, that’s the problem.” He tries to sound serious, but there’s this stupid smile that won’t get off of his fucking face, and it’s ruining his tone. “You know that whole ‘This is Magnus’s place and I have to respect that and follow the rules’ thing? That’s done. I live here now.” And since he’s feeling particularly bold, he gently tilts up Magnus’s chin with the side of his finger, so he has to _really_ look at him. “You can’t tell me what to do anymore.”

Magnus’s eyes get a little wide. His lips are parted and moving, like he can’t decide what expression he wants to make. But after a few seconds, he settles on a smirk. He closes his eyes, and tilts his head so it’s resting on the bedpost again. “This whole thing was a horrific mistake. Worst decision I’ve ever made. I regret it already.” His smile grows as he speaks.

And, well. Alec can’t help himself. He bends down to kiss Magnus’s forehead. Lightly. Just for a second. “Please change out of those wet clothes. You’ll feel better.” Even though a big part of him wants to pull Magnus into bed and cuddle the shit out of him for the rest of the night, he makes himself move away. Back toward the door. Because he's got a job to do. “I’m gonna go make dinner, whether you like it or not.”

“Alexander?”

Alec stops in the doorway. “Hm?” He turns back.

The towel’s slipped off of Magnus’s head, but it’s still slung around his shoulders. His damp hair is standing up in a bunch of weird directions. He’s still leaning against the bedpost, completely slumped over himself, like he might nod off at any second.

But he’s smiling. That little smile, the one that’s just for Alec. “Welcome home.”

Alec smiles.

Yeah.

That's _definitely_ got a nice ring to it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, this chapter was basically just an excuse for me to put Alec in short-shorts and thigh-high stockings while he cleans the apartment. That image is more important to me than pretty much anything else in this world.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec doesn’t get it. How the fuck did Magnus survive sleeping all by himself, for all those years, in a bed the size of Rhode Island? No one needs this much space. Not Magnus and Alec, not Magnus by himself, and-  
> And _definitely_ not Alec by himself.

Why the fuck is this bed so big?

Alec doesn’t get it. There are only two of them. They don’t need so much space, just to sleep.

And hell, when Magnus bought this bed, there was only _one_ of him.

What the fuck?

How the fuck did Magnus survive sleeping all by himself, for all those years, in a bed the size of Rhode Island? What did he do with all the extra space? If Alec were to lie in the very center of the bed, and stretch out all of his limbs as far as possible, he still wouldn’t be anywhere _near_ the corners. This bed is a crime against common sense, really. No one needs this much space. Not Magnus and Alec, not Magnus by himself, and-

And _definitely_ not Alec by himself.

How does he usually do it?

He’s slept alone in this bed so many times. _So many times._ He’s been sleeping in this bed for five and a half years. And even if it’s commonplace for Magnus to be home before bedtime now, that wasn’t always the case. Alec has plenty of experience falling asleep alone in this bed, hours before Magnus gets home. Sometimes because Magnus’s work schedule is so unusual, and sometimes just because he wanted to go out and do sociable shit when Alec wanted a quiet night at home (though obviously that doesn’t happen anymore. Magnus can’t really get away with going out to a club instead of being home for dinner these days). And it’s never been a problem.

So why is it so fucking _impossible_ for Alec to fall asleep right now?

It shouldn’t be that different. His internal sleep sensors can’t be so finely tuned that they can _tell_ that Magnus isn’t coming home tonight. They can’t know. There’s no reason for Alec’s body to think this is any different than the countless nights he’s fallen asleep alone, knowing Magnus would be joining him before morning.

Alec risks a glance at the clock on his nightstand…

1:17 am.

Fuck.

Fucking fuck fuck fuck _fuck._

He’s been in bed for over _three_ hours. And he hasn’t felt the slightest bit tired. He was fucking exhausted right up until he actually got into bed, of course. But now…

The fucking bed is just too goddamn big. There’s too much space. Alec isn’t used to all this big empty mattress anymore. He’s not supposed to be all lonely and cold and non-snuggled at night. He’s got a fiance to take care of that for him.

But now his fiance is all the way in London for two days, and it’s not like Alec can’t handle two measly days without him, but…

The bed is just so big.

Alec scrubs his hands through his hair. He’s wide awake. He can’t fall asleep like this.

For lack of a better option, he unplugs his phone from the charger and checks his messages.

Nothing.

Obviously, since it’s one in the fucking morning.

Well, technically there’s not _nothing._ There are actually a whopping sixteen new texts in his notifications, but they’re all in his group chat with Lily and Maia. Because no matter how many times Alec tries to remind them that the group chat is for official, work-related, _important,_ downworlder-shadowhunter liaison stuff, it _always_ devolves into a regular old text thread for the two of them. And Alec just doesn’t care about reading their debate over which club to go to on Friday. By now, he’s long-since silenced his notifications for that particular thread, and they know to call him when they have actual business to discuss. By the Angel, he may love those girls, but he sincerely hopes that he and Magnus were never so _gooey_ with each other in front of other people, particularly in any damn group texts. He wonders if the rest of the clan and the pack are aware of just how many _emojis_ are being sent between their leaders on a regular basis.

But apart from that, there’s nothing. Which, Alec reminds himself for the millionth time tonight, is a _good_ thing. The time difference means Magnus has probably been asleep for a while, and won’t wake up for a few more hours. And even when he _is_ awake, he’s fucking busy, so it’s not like he’s gonna be texting Alec every five minutes. Yesterday he was taking care of the actual _job_ portion of the trip, and today, since he’s in London already, he’s taking the opportunity to visit Tessa. Alec knows not to expect any texts from him right now.

And he also knows not to expect any texts from Luke and Jocelyn right now. Because everything is fine. Max is fine. If at any point, Max were suddenly _not_ fine, they would call him. They are perfectly capable of a watching a four-year-old for one night.

Hell, they’re a lot more qualified to watch a kid than Alec is. They’ve actually done it before. Yeah, it's been quite a while since Clary was a toddler, but still. She turned out just fine. Alec has _proof_ that Jocelyn and Luke can raise a well-adjusted child. As far as his _own_ child-rearing skills are concerned, Alec is still just… hoping for the best.

Alec pulls up his last texts from Luke. They’re all standard. Saying when they put Max to bed. Saying everything is perfectly fine. Saying when he and Jocelyn were going to bed, and specifying that they’d call him if they needed to.

It’s all standard, because it’s not like this is the first time this has happened. Max _loves_ sleepovers. He always has. And Magnus and Alec have a _lot_ of people in their lives who are more than willing to take him for a night. It started as something that Magnus and Alec would actively encourage - because having a night to themselves once every few months was certainly an attractive idea. But by now, Max can barely go two or three weeks before he’s begging them to let him have a sleepover. So between Luke and Jocelyn and Clary and Jace and Simon and Isabelle and Robert and Maryse (now that they’ve both been non-horrible for long enough that Magnus and Alec have decided to give them both unsupervised babysitting privileges) and Catarina and even _Maia_ every now and then, Max has spent _plenty_ of nights away from the loft. This isn’t new. This is standard. This is routine. Alec knows how to deal with this.

He reads the texts again. They’re all from hours ago.

Max has been in bed for _hours._

So Alec is not going to call to make them check on him.

He’s not.

He’s _not._

He’d said goodnight and everything. Before Alec left Jocelyn and Luke’s place after dinner, he’d gone through the whole bedtime ritual. Magnus had interrupted the meeting with his client so he could skype in, too. The four of them had done _all_ of the usual night-time stuff.

(Though that was when Rafe had abruptly decided that he didn’t want to stay, that he wanted to go back home with Alec. He’s never spent a night away from the loft, so it wasn’t too surprising. Alec’s just glad Rafe made the decision while Alec was still there, and it didn’t turn into a panic in the middle of the night. Max is used to sleeping somewhere else by himself, so the sudden change in plans wasn’t a problem for anyone.)

Alec should be fine with this. He should be _totally_ fine with this. He and Magnus said goodnight to both of the kids. Alec had even tucked Rafe into his own bed, just like every other night. Both of his kids are just fine. They’re both sound asleep. Magnus is probably asleep too. Everyone is fine. Everyone is asleep.

Everyone but Alec.

Because Max is almost half an hour away, and Magnus is like, _seven hours_ away - going by time difference - and even Rafe is an entire room away, and where the fuck are the cats? Even _they’ve_ abandoned Alec tonight, just like everybody else.

This bed is just so… big.

So empty.

Alec drops his phone back on the nightstand.

He starts to run his hands through his hair again, but he stops. With his hands on his forehead. The heels of them pressed against his closed eyes.

Why can’t he sleep?

He takes a deep breath, and slowly sighs it out, letting it flub his lips.

Well, he’s not gonna check on Magnus, and he’s not gonna check on Max.

But there’s no reason he can’t check on Rafe.

Alec had always assumed the whole ‘check on the kids in the middle of the night to make sure everyone’s still breathing’ thing would go away once Max made the transition from baby to toddler. Yet here Alec is, with one toddler, and one child old enough to just be considered a _kid_ and nothing else, and it’s still habit for him to poke his head into their room at least once every damn night.

And in almost four years, nothing has _ever_ been wrong. Maybe, _maybe_ there’s a blanket or a stuffed animal that’s been knocked to the floor for Alec to pick up and put back on someone’s bed, but that’s it. With one kid who constantly moves and twitches in his sleep, and one kid who snores even louder than Jace, it’s pretty easy to tell that everything’s okay without having to do much investigating. Alec is fully expecting to push open the propped door a few extra inches, get a good look at Rafe shifting around or kicking off his blanket, and that’ll be it.

Alec is definitely _not_ expecting to push open the door-

And see Rafe, out of bed, right in front of him, reaching for the door as it opens.

There’s a moment where they’re both so obviously taken by surprise that neither of them actually _do_ anything. They’re just frozen, a little wide-eyed, Alec’s hand on the door, Rafe’s hand in midair, halfway to the doorknob.

Alec recovers himself first. “Hey, mijo.” Though his instinct is to panic, he decides to _not_ immediately leap to crisis mode (since it’s entirely possible Rafe’s up for a perfectly normal reason), and instead he asks, “Everything okay?”

Rafe finally pulls his hand back from where he’d been reaching for the door. And he presses the side of his thumb to his mouth, which-

Shit.

Which means no, everything’s not okay.

Alec crouches down, resting his arms on his knees, trying to stay at Rafe's eye-level (even though Rafe’s eyes are fixed on the carpet). “What’s wrong, mijo?”

Rafe rubs his hand across his mouth a bit, but he doesn’t look like he’s gonna talk.

Alec looks him over. He doesn’t look groggy, like he would if he’d just woken up. His hair is still the normal level of messy, not sleepy-messy. Alec can see that he’s holding one of his stuffed animals behind his back, but Alec can’t tell which one it is.

“Were you sleeping?”

Rafe looks to the side, still not making eye contact. That’s another ‘no’, then.

“Did you sleep at all tonight?”

Rafe ducks his head a bit, hand still pressed firmly against his mouth. Which means the answer is no, and he’s afraid he’s going to get in trouble for it.

Shit.

Alec reaches out and gently puts his hand on Rafe’s shoulder. This doesn’t make any sense. Rafe’s been in bed for hours. He’d spent all evening running around with Max and Luke - he should have gotten really tired out. He didn’t eat anything that would keep him up. There hasn’t been any bad weather to keep him from sleeping. And he couldn’t have had any nightmares to wake him up unless he’d fallen asleep in the first place. Unless it’s-

Oh.

If Rafe weren’t so upset, Alec thinks he might smile. But he doesn’t. He just rubs his thumb across Rafe’s arm, as soothingly as he can. “Is it kinda weird, trying to sleep without Max here?”

Rafe opens his mouth, almost looking surprised… then closes it again. But after a few moments of silence, he nods. Barely even enough to be noticeable.

Yeah. That makes sense. Rafe’s never slept alone here. Max hasn’t been on any sleepovers since they brought Rafe home. Max may be used to sleeping in otherwise-empty rooms in someone else’s house, but Rafe’s spent every single night of the last six months with his brother in his room. Alec didn’t actually bring this up with Rafe before bedtime, since he’d kinda hoped it wouldn’t seem like a big deal if he didn’t make a big deal out of it. But it looks like that plan’s backfired.

Because now it’s one in the goddamn morning, and this five-year-old hasn’t gotten _any_ sleep. By the Angel, Alec doesn’t know how Rafe has survived this long without either coming to get him, or just flat-out having a breakdown. He usually goes to sleep before fucking _sunset,_ and now it’s the middle of the night. Alec feels exhausted just _thinking_ about his poor, fucked-up sleep schedule.

But at the very least, this particular problem has an easy fix.

Alec leans forward a bit, and lowers his voice. “Wanna know a secret?”

That finally makes Rafe look up at him, unable to resist an offer like that.

Alec puts on his smallest, most crooked half-smile, and raises his eyebrows, trying to look decently embarrassed. “It’s kinda weird for me to try to sleep without Papa here.” He shrugs one shoulder. “I haven’t slept tonight either.”

Rafe shifts forward a bit, like he’s really bought-in to the idea that he’s just been told a secret. And his eyes are a bit wide, like he’s surprised that Alec is having the same problem as him. He moves his hand down onto his chin, just far enough to free his lips. “Really?”

 _Fuck._ It's too late at night for Alec to deal with this kind of cuteness. Rafe can’t simultaneously have eyes this big and a voice this small. Alec’s heart can’t handle it. “Really.” He lets go of Rafe’s shoulder and clasps his hands together. “So, if _you_ can’t sleep alone, and _I_ can’t sleep alone… do you wanna stay with me tonight?”

Alec can see every step in Rafe’s thought process. Excitement at first, but then he immediately pulls back to hesitation, and then confusion. Because there are only two situations where he knows he’s allowed to sleep in Magnus and Alec’s bed: when he has a nightmare, and when there’s a storm (and also that one time Max accidentally scorched the carpet in their room because he saw a spider, and Magnus was too worn out to fix it before morning. But that was an anomaly). He’s never been in a situation like this before. And to make it even worse, he doesn’t have Max here to confirm that this is allowed. Magnus and Alec may make the actual, serious ‘rules’ of the house, but the _perks_ of the house are still entirely under Max’s jurisdiction as far as Rafe is concerned. Hell, even with things as simple as getting an extra snack before bedtime, Rafe will still give Max a sidelong glance and wait for Max’s nod of approval before accepting it. An offer like _this_ is unusual enough that he must feel completely lost without Max here to tell him that it’s okay.

But all the hours of sleep deprivation must have really done a number on him, because after only a few moments of obvious uncertainty, he nods.

And Alec smiles. “Alright.” He stands up, and runs through the checklist in his mind. He’s not used to doing this without Magnus here to magically fix anything they might have forgotten to do by the time they get settled in bed. “Grab the plushie you want,” he says, since he has a feeling that it’s not the tiny one that Rafe’s still hiding behind his back.

Sure enough, Rafe runs right back to his side of the room and plops the little turtle onto the _mountain_ of stuffed animals at the foot of his bed. And instead, he hauls up the purple penguin that’s damn near as big as he is. Alec’s not surprised. Rafe sleeps cuddled up with the penguin basically every night, and it’s already pretty worn out considering that he’s only had it for three months.

Once Rafe looks ready to go, Alec unplugs the night light by his bed, since the lamps in his and Magnus’s room are way too bright for sleeping. And, of course, Magnus isn’t here to dim them to a sleepable level (why don’t they just buy lights that _everyone_ in the family can dim? Why are there still things in this house that only work for Magnus?).

Normally, Alec would offer his hand to Rafe, just out of instinct. But Rafe is already on his way, carrying his massive stuffed penguin in his arms, struggling to find the best way to hold it up without tripping over it (or himself). Alec wants to carry it for him, but with the obviously vice-like grip Rafe has on it, Alec knows better than to try and take it from him.

And - no matter how horrible it is for Alec to think it - it’s pretty damn cute to see Rafe trudge into the next room, just barely able to peek over the top of the penguin’s head to see where he’s going.

However, Alec _does_ help hoist Rafe up onto the bed, since there wasn’t much chance of Rafe getting himself and a massive plushie all the way up onto the adult-height mattress.

Alec turns away for a second to plug in the night light next to his phone charger (it’s just a plain bulb, that slowly rotates through various shades of blue and purple throughout the night), and when he turns back-

Rafe has already settled himself into bed. Right in the middle of it. With his penguin taking up a human-sized chunk of mattress next to him.

Alec has to bite the inside of his lip to keep from chuckling. “Are you gonna scoot over, or do I have to sleep on the floor with the kitties?”

Rafe ducks his head, clearly embarrassed… but he’s also smiling a bit, so at least he knows he’s being teased. And he starts moving, in Alec’s direction.

Alec nods sharply to the far wall. “Other way,” he corrects gently, because there’s no way in hell he’s gonna let his kid sleep on the side of the bed closest to the door. That side is the first line of defense, and it’s _Alec’s_ spot.

Rafe shifts the other way, and hauls his penguin over to the other side of himself so Alec can get into bed next to him. Rafe usually sleeps with all of his limbs wrapped around that damn penguin like a cage, so Alec’s expecting him to snuggle up with it-

But apparently, Alec makes a decent substitute. Because as soon as he gets settled under the blanket, Rafe curls right up next to him. He tucks himself under Alec’s arm, snuggling up to his side and smushing his face into Alec’s silky lavender camisole.

By the Angel, Alec can’t even comprehend how fucking exhausted he must be. Even though Rafe’s been here for over half a year, he’s still _very_ cautious about being the one to initiate contact. Yeah, he’ll cuddle up with Magnus or Alec for hours on end, but only if they’re the one to suggest it. But now it’s like he’s literally trying to burrow himself into Alec’s body. He’s a pretty restless sleeper in general, but this is ridiculous.

Well, since he clearly hasn’t found a comfortable spot yet, they might as well…

“Hey,” Alec nudges Rafe lightly with his leg, “we should probably take a picture for Papa, right?”

Rafe nods immediately - and as Alec reaches for his phone, he can’t help but wonder if it’s a bad thing that he’s clearly programmed his children to subject themselves any photo opportunity without even questioning it. He wonders if Max and Rafe talk behind Alec’s back about how fucking ridiculous he is about documenting every single thing that ever happens to them.

But Alec can’t make himself care. Because this is too good of an opportunity, and he doesn’t have that many pictures of just him and Rafe together.

Rafe scoots a little further up the bed, so his head is resting on Alec’s shoulder. And-

Huh. Alec had assumed that it’d just be a regular, smiley picture. But the second he gets the camera open and facing them, Rafe sticks both of his index fingers into his cheeks, pulls down his lower lip, and widens his eyes.

Okay then.

Alec chokes on a laugh, but recovers himself quickly. He crosses his eyes, sticks out his tongue, and takes the picture. It turns out perfectly, but…

“Okay, let’s take a boring one,” Alec says, shifting his phone in his hand. ‘Boring’ is a well-established photo code in the Lightwood-Bane household, and it means just smiles, nothing goofy (though between Alec and Max, they usually end up being pretty damn goofy anyway. They just can’t help themselves).

Alec gets his arm around Rafe and tugs him a little further up the bed.

Rafe gets the idea and scoots up far enough for their faces to be right next to each other in the frame. He doesn’t usually do big, smiley faces when he’s actually prompted to do so, but he puts on a small, neutral-looking smile anyway. This is a _very_ common occurrence, after all. He knows what he’s doing.

Alec smiles too, and presses the button to take the picture-

And he keeps it pressed as he quickly turns his head and blows a loud, wet raspberry right against Rafe’s cheek.

Rafe shrieks in surprise, but it takes a moment to regain himself enough to shove Alec away (or rather, to shove against Alec to push himself away. Alec doesn’t get moved at all). He buries his face in his hands, but it’s not enough to completely muffle the sound of his laughter.

It only lasted a split-second, but with Alec holding down the button on his phone, hopefully _one_ of the photos turned out halfway decent…

Bingo.

Rafe keeps his distance - wiping off his cheek and obviously trying _very_ hard to look angry enough to hide his smile - as Alec sends the pictures to Magnus.

For a second, it looks like Rafe is gonna pretend to be offended enough by Alec’s silliness that he stays on the other side of the bed with his penguin… but after a minute of half-hearted fuming, he snuggles back into his spot against Alec’s side.

Alec tries not to disturb him as he reaches over to put away his phone-

He gets a text.

He’s not sure if he woke Magnus up, or if he’s just awake unusually early for a vacation day, but it sure didn’t take him long to send a response to the pictures:

_NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

Followed by what must be a few _dozen_ emojis, all in various states of crying and distress.

It’s a horrible reaction to a text like this, and Alec _knows_ it’s horrible of him, but he just can’t keep himself from laughing a little bit.

Rafe tilts up his head far enough to see Alec’s face. “Huh?”

Alec shakes his head, so Rafe knows he wasn’t laughing at him. “I think Papa’s feeling homesick.”

“Hm.” Rafe settles back in, bringing one of his hands up to his mouth.

Alec quickly types out _miss you babe,_ adds a few different hearts, and sends it to Magnus. He moves his thumb to shut off the screen…

But he goes to his home screen instead. Because right now, he can stand to waste a few seconds looking at his background. It’s not like he’s got anything else to be doing, after all.

He took the picture a few days ago. Alec can never settle on just _one_ background, so he usually goes through several in any given week. But he really loves this one. He thinks he’ll keep it for a while (like he doesn’t say that _every damn time_ ).

It’s of Magnus, standing in the living room, with Max and Rafe each wrapped around one of his legs. It had started as a poor attempt to keep Magnus from going into their room to see if they’d made their beds yet, and had ended with Magnus dragging them around the apartment for over half an hour without stopping (“It is _excellent_ resistance training, Alexander.”). Alec had kept waiting for the kids to get bored and let Magnus rest, but apparently it was _endlessly_ entertaining, and Magnus wasn’t about to give up on a good workout. By the time he stood still long enough for Alec to get a nice picture, Magnus was covered in sweat, and even the kids were a little tired from hanging on for so long.

In the picture, Magnus has his hands on his hips in a triumphant pose, and - of course - he somehow looks fucking _beautiful_ even though he’s exhausted and sweaty as fuck. He’s made even sweatier by the fact that he hadn’t even bothered to take off his pink wool cardigan during his impromptu exercise. The front of it is hanging open, and it’s long enough that it’s falling down into the kids’ faces. It’s bunched up on Max’s horns, and it’s almost covering Rafe’s face entirely - but both of their ridiculous grins are still visible, so it doesn’t matter.

Alec smiles. He’s aware that in a few days, something else will inevitably happen that’ll make for an even _more_ irresistible phone background. But for now, this is perfect.

He lets himself waste a few more moments looking at the picture… but then it just ends up reminding him that Magnus is very much _not here_ tonight, and some of the niceness wears off.

Alec reaches over to plug his phone back in while trying to move as little as possible. Rafe’s still squirming enough that Alec’s pretty sure he’s not even close to falling asleep yet. Then again, Rafe is so squirmy in his sleep that it can be pretty hard to tell the difference. But either way, he doesn’t want to ruin whatever sort of complicated burrowing ritual Rafe is obviously in the middle of.

With his phone charging and the night light glowing and the cats already fed for the morning and Rafe right next to him, Alec finally settles himself in. This time, actually _hopeful_ about the prospect of falling asleep, instead of drowning in his own cynicism.

Rafe’s still kicking quite a bit (Alec wonders if it’s just because his nice silk pajama pants feel good against Rafe’s bare feet), but the top half of him seems to have calmed down a bit. He’s pressed up against Alec’s side again, using his own arm as a pillow. His face is smushed in Alec’s ribcage - _dangerously_ close to all of Alec’s most ticklish spots, which is a little nerve-wracking - and Alec can feel his jaw moving-

Alec glances down. Even though Rafe’s face is thoroughly hidden, Alec still needs to look close enough to make sure that he’s not…

Okay. He’s chewing on his bracelet. That’s fine. That’s what the bracelet is for.

(When they’d first brought Rafe home, they’d assumed the rather gruesome injury on his right hand was caused by a particularly bad fall on a rough road. It took them almost two weeks to realize that he’d done it himself, gnawing on his thumb and the heel of his hand until it bruised and bled. Even once they’d bandaged it, it hadn’t stopped Rafe from biting. So instead of trying to break the habit, they’d just redirected it instead. They’d tried necklaces first, with ornaments specifically meant to be sucked on and chewed. But Rafe seems to _really_ need the connection to his hand, so that hadn’t done any good. The bracelets were an absolute life-saver - with the safely chewable beads right on his wrist - and now he has almost a dozen of them.)

Rafe will still start to nibble on his actual thumb once in a while, but only when he’s particularly agitated. Still, it's a habit for Magnus and Alec to make sure he’s chewing on the right thing.

After a few minutes, Rafe settles down a bit more. Alec can’t feel him gnawing on his bracelet anymore, and his feet have stopped pushing against Alec’s legs. Alec can tell by the pattern of his breathing that he isn’t asleep yet, but he figures it won’t be long now.

Alec moves his arm a bit, getting a looser hold around Rafe’s waist, so he can move away a little easier when he wants to. They may be cuddled nice and close right now, but with both of their sleeping habits, Alec knows that in an hour or two Rafe will kick himself all the way over the edge of the bed, and Alec will turn over onto his side and inevitably steal all of the covers.  

But for now, this is nice. And it’s _definitely_ a hell of a lot nicer than either of them trying to sleep by themselves. Alec’s never gotten to sleep snuggled up with just Rafe before. Actually, he hasn’t really…

Huh.

Now that he thinks about…

That’s an… interesting thought. But once he thinks it, he can’t get it out of his head again. It can't be un-thunk. He almost wonders if…

Maybe Rafe is feeling it too.

Probably not. Alec doubts that Rafe is even awake enough to be fully conscious of where he is, or what’s going on.

But for Alec…

He’s suddenly so aware of the fact that it’s just the two of them here right now.

Alec doesn’t think that’s ever happened before. It’s never just him and Rafe. These days, Alec’s never alone with _anyone,_ except for the one hour a week when he and Max drop Rafe off at his ballet class and find something else to do to kill time before picking him up again. And then there’s the two or three times a month when someone volunteers to watch the boys for an evening so he and Magnus can have a proper date. But apart from that, Alec’s used to the whole family. He’s not used to it being just him, and just one of the kids.

Especially just Rafe.

Because now that it’s just him and Rafe alone together…

All Alec can think about is the last time they were alone together. Over half a year ago. In Buenos Aires. When Alec had been completely by himself, and completely helpless in the situation, and he’d had to call Magnus just to be able to speak to Rafe - because growing up with Isabelle, Alec learned his fair share of Spanish, but not the right _kind_ for that situation. Alec knew how to make fun of Hodge without him being able to understand them. He didn’t know how to ask an unfamiliar and frightened child where his parents were. If he was hurt. How long it had been since he’d eaten.

Alec had been alone with Rafe that whole day. And they haven’t been alone together since.

It’s a strange awareness. But it’s also…

It’s also a little bit nice?

Not thinking back to that day, that's still horrible. Alec tries his best to not remember anything about the state of the Buenos Aires Institute, or the goddamn _alley_ where he’d found Rafe, or how Rafe had looked-

Alec makes a point of not thinking about it too much. But right now, remembering the last time they were alone together… and then thinking about where they are right now…

Yeah. It’s nice. Because things are nicer now.

That day, it had taken hours to get Rafe to speak to anyone, regardless of language. And it’s not like he’s particularly talkative now (Alec’s pretty sure the only person he’s had a full conversation with in all these months is Max, and even then, with Max being a bilingual little chatterbox, who knows how much actual talking Rafe does with him), but he _talks_ now, equally comfortable with Spanish and English.

Hell, he’s even expressed a few _opinions._  It’s taken six whole months, but by now they know that Rafe doesn’t like apples, that his favorite color is purple, and that footie pajamas make him feel claustrophobic (Alec still feels sick to his stomach when he thinks about how many times he and Magnus had put him in those pajamas and let him be _miserable_ all night long, just because they didn’t know any better, and Rafe was too afraid to tell them).

It’s not much, but it’s also such an unbelievable improvement. Rafe talks to them. He smiles. He laughs. He and Max play the dozens of silly games they’ve made up that Magnus and Alec _still_ can’t follow or understand to save their lives. He’s starting to make friends in his ballet class. He only gets woken up by nightmares once or twice a week instead of damn near every night, like the first few months he was here. His hand may be scarred, but it’s healed, and he doesn’t bite it anymore.

And - probably Alec’s favorite - he eats. He like, _really_ eats. He hadn’t been able to steal enough to keep himself fed when he was alone, and then it was like he was _afraid_ of eating too much with them, like asking for a second helping or saying he was still hungry would be the final straw that made Magnus and Alec say he couldn’t stay with them anymore. But now, he loves eating. And he loves helping Alec cook. They’ve even gotten him a little step stool so he can reach the counters in the kitchen. And even though it’s so awful to think back to how terrifyingly underweight he’d been when Alec had found him, it makes it even nicer to see how different he looks now. He’s actually starting to get a little chubby, with the round face and squishy tummy that a five-year-old is supposed to have.

It’s weird to think about it like this. But it’s nice to see how much progress he’s been making. Because he’s just a kid now. And he’s already growing up so much. He’s gonna be six soon, and he’s gonna start _school_ in the fall, and by the Angel, Alec knows the chain of events wasn’t exactly normal here, but that’s sure not stopping him from feeling like an old man, what with his kid growing up so goddamn fast.

Fuck. School. _School._ Max was just a baby like, a week ago. Now they’re kids and they’re getting so old and Alec likes it but he also _really_ hates it. Especially because what the fuck is he supposed to do when they get to the point where both of the kids are gone all day? What’s he supposed to do with himself? What the fuck-

His impending panic attack is interrupted by a sudden weight landing on the foot of the bed.

“George,” Rafe says quietly, without even looking up.

And yeah, it’s George Bernard Paw, finally deigning to come spend time with Alec (after callously abandoning him all night). She paces back and forth at the foot of the bed instead of curling up like she usually does, and Alec kinda wonders if she’s confused by everyone’s unusual sleeping arrangements tonight.

And Alec can’t help but ask, “How’d you know it was George?” Because George and the Chairman are almost the same size now, so it’s not like the actual sound of her jumping on the bed should be that specific.

Rafe shifts a little, burying his face deeper into Alec’s shirt. It’s normal for him to look away before he answers a question, so maybe this is just his way of doing that when he’s not looking at Alec in the first place. “Meow’s in our room.”

Well. That makes sense. The cats almost never sleep in the same room. “Was Meow sleeping with you?”

Rafe shakes his head. “Max’s bed.”

“Bed thief!” Alec gasps quietly.

Rafe makes a little noise. It’s so muffled that Alec can’t really tell what it is, but for his own sake, he’s gonna say it’s a laugh.

Rafe makes another little sound, and this time it…

Ah fuck. It turns into a yawn. He makes the _tiniest_ little yawning noise and then a tiny post-yawn noise and then he fists his hand in Alec’s shirt and holy _fuck_ if he gets any goddamn cuter Alec’s gonna have a fucking heart attack.

Every now and then, Alec will get a little wistful, and start wishing that he could have known Rafe when he was still a baby.

And then something like _this_ happens, and Alec realizes that if he’d actually seen Rafe at baby-levels of cuteness, he’d have died on the spot. With his curly hair and his gigantic brown eyes and his goddamn fucking _dimples,_ Alec wouldn’t have stood a chance.

Besides, Max was already the cutest damn baby in the history of the world, so it wouldn’t have been fair for Alec to get _another_ impossibly adorable baby.

Alec’s not entirely sure anymore, but he _thinks_ Rafe is still awake, so he risks a little bit of movement. He cozies himself into his pillow a bit more, and adjusts his arm around Rafe so it doesn’t fall asleep before Rafe eventually scoots himself away.

Rafe doesn’t respond at all to Alec shifting. And his breathing is starting to slow down. And Alec can tell that his mouth is hanging open, not chewing on his bracelet. So maybe…

Alec doesn’t know if his brain is just _finally_ catching up to the fact that it’s the middle of the night, or if he’s really reached a point where he can genuinely only fall asleep if he’s cuddled up with at least one member of his family… But whatever it is, he’s suddenly exhausted.

But he wants to hold out until he’s sure Rafe’s already asleep.

He can do it. He can stay awake longer than a five-year-old. Of course he can.

He can.

Yep.

He’s not gonna fall asleep.

He’s not drifting off. He’s gonna stay wide awake.

He’s gonna wake up any second now.

He’s gonna…

“Daddy?”

Well _fuck._

If anything could wake him up, it’s that.

(It’s not necessarily _new_ anymore, but it’s still… It’s still enough to make stupid things happen in Alec’s chest when he hears it. He’s built up a tiny bit of a tolerance since it first happened a few weeks ago, so his reaction isn’t _quite_ as blatant as it used to be. But it’s still something.)

Alec manages to keep himself calm - even though his insides have just turned into a combination of mush and goo. “Yeah, mijo?”

Rafe’s restless again, and somehow the movement feels distinctly nervous. “Song?”

Ah.

That.

It’s not like there’s any fucking chance that Alec’s gonna say _no,_ but…

“Yeah, of course. But I don’t have a good voice like Papa.”

Rafe nods. “I know.”

A surprised laugh gets out of Alec before he can stop it. He manages to at least choke back the rest of it.

Well, at least he’s honest.

If Magnus were here, Alec would ask Rafe what song he wants. After all, Magnus _always_ lets Rafe choose the song, and if Alec is already gonna be a disappointing singer, he’d at least like Rafe to choose his method of disappointment. But the lullaby is basically _never_ Alec’s job (not by himself, anyway), and he just knows that if Rafe picks the song, it’ll be one of the ones where Alec doesn’t know all the words. He may be a bad singer, but he’s not gonna be _that_ bad about it.

He sticks with “Arrorró mi niño”, since he’s _positive_ that he knows all of those words. He could sing that one in his sleep (hell, he might have actually done that at some point). For the first few months, it was all Rafe wanted to hear, and it was the only way to get him to fall asleep again after a nightmare. Alec can’t even comprehend the number of hours that he and Magnus have spent in this bed, Alec holding Rafe while he cried, and Magnus singing that song on an endless loop.

So even though it’s usually more of a ‘heavy duty’ lullaby, it’s the one Alec knows the best, and it’ll have to do. At least he feels totally confident with it as he starts singing.

Well. He feels confident about the _words,_ anyway.

Alec’s never been much of a singer. Before the boys came along, he doesn’t think he sang an entire note in his whole damn life. Hell, even after they adopted Max, Alec _still_ didn’t have any music-related responsibilities. Max never seemed to care. He liked a lullaby as much as the next kid (presumably), but he’d never actually ask for one.

And then they brought Rafe home, and the music became _constant._ Magnus is so used to Rafe asking him to sing that by now, he’s internalized it. He’s started singing over half the things he says without realizing it. Rafe needs at least one lullaby every night in order to fall asleep, and then possibly _several_ more if he’s woken up by a nightmare.

Alec’s not sure if it’s just Rafe’s natural inclination, or if the Buenos Aires Institute was significantly more musical than the Institutes Alec is familiar with, but either way. Rafe is obsessed with music. He loves hearing it, he loves singing, Jace is even teaching him to play piano (and Alec has already seen the little two-octave keyboard Jace has hidden in his closet for Rafe’s birthday).

In the past six months, Rafe’s need for music has made the entire Lightwood-Bane household significantly more sing-y than it’s been before.

For the most part, Alec’s long-since lost all of the anxiety and embarrassment that used to come with playing with a child. The knowledge that a child will blatantly tell him if he’s doing something stupid used to make him hyper-aware of what he said or did around them. But after just a few months with Max, that all disappeared, and now he’s comfortable doing the most ridiculous shit he can think of, just because the kids want him to.

Singing, however…

It’s just not something he’s used to. It’s Magnus’s job, not his. He doesn’t have enough experience with it to have lost that last bit of need for dignity. He knows that he sounds shitty, and he’s still aware enough to be embarrassed by how shitty he sounds.

But Rafe doesn’t seem to mind. He’s curled up as tightly as possible, so his knees are digging into Alec’s side, and his breathing is getting so heavy that Alec can still hear it over his quiet singing. He moves his head a bit, like he’s nuzzling his face into Alec’s silk pajamas.

His hair’s getting long. It was plenty long to start with, but it’s curly enough that it never used to fall into his eyes. It was too… poofy for that. His hair is _very_ poofy. But now it’s getting long enough all the curliness in the world can’t keep it out of his face. He’s said no every time they’ve offered to get him a haircut, and at this rate, they’re gonna have to start pulling or pinning it back for dance class every week. Hell, by the time he starts school, it’ll probably be long enough to put up in a fancy bun. He’s only got a couple of months left where he doesn’t _really_ need a view unobstructed by hair.

A couple of months.

Fuck.

_Fuck._

In a couple of months - in less than half a year - Alec’s gonna have a first-grader. That’s just… wrong. There has to be a mistake. It feels like it makes more sense for  _Alec_ to be in school than one of his kids.

There's just so much to it. Packed lunches and homework and backpacks filled with notebooks and crayons and glue sticks, and… okay… _maybe_ that part of it doesn’t sound so bad (he’s admittedly a little excited about getting to take Rafe shopping for school supplies).

But then there’s dealing with everything else. Everyone else. All day. Rafe’s never spent an entire day away from them before. He’s never had any problems with dance class, but that’s only one hour a week. There’s so much more opportunity for something to go wrong at school. And it’s so much more time and social interaction, which means it’d be so much easier for Rafe to accidentally say something a little too Shadow World-related about his life. Alec knows it’s not like mundane society will collapse if a six-year-old says one of his dads can do magic, but still. Rafe is used to the established set of lies they’ve chosen so they can ‘pretend’ to be a mundane family - and he understands why he has to lie about those things - but it’ll be a big change to have to stick to those lies _all the time._

(Alec still can’t wait until the Clave finds out about this. Because Alec’s finally a _legitimate_ parent as far as they’re concerned. Now that he’s raising a nephilim child, they suddenly care about him and his ‘family’ - though they coincidentally continue to ignore Max’s existence, and if they ever acknowledge Magnus, it’s only to express _outrage_ that a warlock is ‘claiming’ to be the father of a shadowhunter. Because of Rafe, the Clave actually gives a shit about Alec for once. So Alec can’t even imagine how fantastic the reaction is going to be when they find out that Rafe’s decided he has no interest whatsoever in being a shadowhunter, and he’s insisted that Magnus and Alec enroll him in a mundane elementary school so he can be with his friends from ballet. Alec knows that Rafe damn well isn’t doing this to make any sort of statement, but still, he fucking _loves_ that his kid is already sending a nice ‘fuck you’ to the Clave, even without meaning to. It’s incredibly satisfying.)

Alec never imagined that he’d end up this involved in mundane society. He’s gotten to the point where being engaged to Magnus Bane and raising a couple of kids with him seems completely normal, but it’s absolutely _bizarre_ to realize how comfortable he is in a grocery store.

He’d forced himself to adjust pretty early, when Max was still a baby. Because it was necessary. After all, it happened to work out that the one of them who stayed home with Max was also the one who _can’t_ magically conjure up some extra diapers when the need arises. Alec became very familiar with navigating through mundane stores, with fully-covered baby carriers to keep any prying eyes from picking up on suspicious shades of blue. And once Max could manage a human glamour (the first piece of magic that Magnus had actually taught him specifically, instead of letting him discover it on his own), it expanded. Now the family spends about as much time with mundanes as they do with people who know about the Shadow World.

And it’s… weird.

Not better. Not necessarily worse, either.

But it’s definitely weird.

Because it’s different.

They inevitably end up getting as much attention at a mundane park as they do in an Institute. It’s just for a different reason. Or, sometimes, different reason _s._

And that’s what’s really surprised Alec the most.

Because they deal with a whole lot of shit from shadowhunters, but it is _always_ for the same reason: Magnus and Max. Yeah, there are plenty of nephilim who don’t like that Magnus and Alec are both men, but that’s always completely overshadowed by how much they hate that Magnus is a warlock. _Maybe_ these people would be focusing more on their homophobia if they weren’t so distracted by their racism, but there you go. When they get a dirty look from a shadowhunter, one hundred percent of the time, it’s because there are downworlders in their family. That racism runs so deep that anyone who cares about it can’t seem to care about anything else.

But with mundanes, who the fuck knows? When they get a dirty look at Whole Foods, there are so many _options._ It might be because they’re two men. It might be because they’re two men who are different races. It might be because they’re two men with children. It might be because they’re two men with children and all four of them are different races. It might be because of their clothes, or their makeup, or their hair, or their high-heeled shoes, or their jewelry, or their nail polish (and it especially seems to make some people _livid_ when they see that Rafe likes wearing purple nail polish as much as Magnus and Alec do).

Hell, one time Alec had been at the park with the kids, and a woman had approached him with that _look_ on her face, so Alec had tried to guess what it was going to be: his sandals, or his pretty, open-backed shirt, or his eyeshadow, or his earrings…

And she’d proceeded to scold him about how he was setting an unprofessional example for his children… because of his “tattoos”.

Alec had been so goddamn confused that by the time he realized what she was referring to, the only response he could think of was to laugh.

It’s not like it’s constant. It’s manageable. And they’ve spent a _lot_ of time making sure the kids know how to deal with it, and more importantly, that they know it’s never their fault, and that the people who say things like that are the ones in the wrong.

Still, Alec feels horrible that his kids are so used to dealing with assholes that they’ve been thoroughly prepared for _two_ separate brands of bullshit: the one from mundanes, and the one from shadowhunters.

And with Rafe seemingly deciding that he’s sticking with the mundanes, Alec doesn’t know if it’s going to get better or worse for him. Being a mundane kid, and getting a mundane childhood.

Well, after what Rafe’s childhood was like as a shadowhunter, Alec certainly understands his choice.

They’ll be fine. All of them. Passing themselves off as a ‘normal’ mundane family. With the ballet recitals, and maybe sports if one of the kids get into that, and helping out with homework (though Alec knows that’ll probably end up being more Magnus’s thing, considering that Alec has a basic nephilim education, and Magnus practically collects college degrees like a hobby. Alec’s never even had a history class that didn’t begin with Raziel and end with the foundation of the New York Institute. Alec would probably get his ass kicked even by the first grade curriculum), and parent-teacher conferences, and sleepovers on the weekends… and…

By the Angel. Maybe Alec _can’t_ do this.

It’s just so fucking far outside of his scope of experience. Flashcards and standardized tests and a bunch of tiny mundane children running around their apartment when Rafe wants to have friends over and always wondering if Rafe is gonna accidentally mention that his little brother is _blue_ and has horns-

Shit.

Alec had forgotten that he’s still singing. The song is so embedded in his brain that he literally got through the whole thing on autopilot. Magnus usually sings it through twice, since it’s not particularly long, and Alec must have followed tradition because he’s suddenly halfway through the first verse again. But now he’s thinking too hard, and it makes him trip a bit over the words.

Alec just gives up and starts the next verse. It’s not like Rafe’s gonna care. He’s probably not even awake anymore. He’s still shifting and twitching a bit, but the movement feels less conscious and more random.

He still has a few more months.

It’s barely even spring. They have plenty of time before they have to start worrying about school. Start the _real_ worrying, anyway. They’ve already done an _exceptional_ amount of worrying about finding the right school, and making sure they can get Rafe enrolled even though a tiny, recently-orphaned-then-adopted nephilim doesn’t exactly have standard mundane paperwork (and the only ‘official’ forms of mundane identification that Magnus and Alec have are just excellent magic forgeries).

But there’s still time before they have to worry about Rafe. He still has most of the spring and _all_ of the summer before he has to deal with any of this. Alec’s sure he’ll be ready by then.

And, now that he thinks about it, Alec’ll be ready too. He’s pretty confident, anyway. If he can raise two kids (one of whom has just started learning how to literally _disappear_ right out from under him, not to mention all the accidental fires he starts), and keep his job as shadowhunter-downworlder liaison, and attend at least one Clave meeting every month - and manage to not lose his goddamn mind during all the bullshit he has to hear at said meetings - he’s pretty sure he can handle being a mundane parent. He can make lunches with the crusts cut off. He can be on a PTA, once he finds out what the fuck a PTA is. He can handle ballet and boy scouts and whatever else mundane kids do (he’ll have to get a refresher course from Luke and Jocelyn about what to expect). Yeah. If he’s done so much already, he can do this.

They can do this.

They’ll be fine.

He gets to the end of the song for the second time, and he actually _realizes_ it, and stops singing.

Rafe doesn’t say anything. Or do anything. He just twitches a bit. His grip on Alec’s shirt has loosened, but he’s still snuggled up to him as close as possible.

Well.

It’s gotta be half past one by now. Maybe it’s closer to two, who knows. It’s definitely past both of their bedtimes. Rafe looks like he’s finally out. George has settled at the foot of the bed, sprawled out and taking up as much space as possible (because she knows Rafe doesn’t need as much leg-room as Magnus, so she doesn’t have to curl up like usual). And the lullaby apparently worked on Alec just as much as it worked on Rafe, because it’s becoming a damn struggle to keep his eyes open.

Okay.

Max is with Jocelyn and Luke, and he’s fine. Magnus is in London, and he’s fine. Rafe is right here, and he’s fine. Even the cats are in ‘their’ beds, and they’re fine.

And Alec thinks he can finally get some sleep now.

He turns his face in toward his pillow, since he’s not singing anymore. His arm did eventually fall asleep from being tucked around Rafe like this, but he doesn’t care. He cozies himself in, and closes his eyes.

Rafe makes an unhappy little noise.

He makes it again, a little louder.

Then he tugs on Alec’s shirt. Sleepy, but insistent.

Alec smiles. “Okay, mijo.”

And he starts the song over again.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alec Lightwood will be the ultimate PTA Dad, and no one can tell me otherwise.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Do you want to talk about it?_  
>  Alec reads the text.  
> He looks up. Looks at his reflection in the mirror.  
> He looks at the makeup wipes.

_Do you want to talk about it?_

Alec reads the text.

He reads it about a hundred times. As though it might say something different if he looks away and looks back.

He reads the text.

He looks up. Looks at his reflection in the mirror.

He reads the text.

He looks at his reflection.

He looks at the makeup wipes. They’re on his dresser now, not the bed. He wanted them to be a little closer. He wants to keep them in his vision, even when he looks in the mirror. He wants to keep seeing them. He wants to remember how this is going to end.

He reads the text.

It’s been almost ten minutes since Magnus sent it. By now, he’s probably figured out that prolonged silence is kind of an answer in itself, but still. Alec knows he should answer.

He looks at his reflection.

It hasn’t gone away. The feeling. The… whatever it is. Whatever happens in his stomach when he looks at himself like this. It’s not quite as overwhelming as it was in Isabelle’s mirror, when he first saw himself like this. But it’s still there.

He looks…

He looks at the makeup wipes.

It’s been almost ten minutes since Magnus texted him. Magnus texted him almost five minutes after Alec sent him the picture. Alec sent him the picture five or ten minutes after Isabelle finished doing his makeup.

And Isabelle finished doing his makeup twenty minutes after Jace came looking for him. It’s been damn near an hour since Jace came looking for him. Knowing Jace, Alec only has a few minutes before he comes looking for him again.

He looks at the makeup wipes.

He looks at his reflection.

He tilts his head a bit. Enough to make the light hit his cheekbone. To really bring out the shadow underneath it. He tilts his head a different way, so the light catches the shimmer on his eyelids.

He looks… good.

He looks pretty.

He reads the text.

He reads the text he got before it.

_You look beautiful, Alexander._

And he… does. He knows he does. He can see it. He looks beautiful.

He looks at his reflection.

And he looks at the makeup wipes. Because he knows he has to use them. It’s not his choice. Right now, looking at his reflection, he knows he’s just pretending. It’s nice to keep looking in the mirror, keep pretending that this is just how he looks now. Keep pretending that he’s actually pretty.

Keep pretending that he’s allowed to be pretty.

Because he’s not. He knows that. This little makeup-bubble he’s made this morning - in Izzy’s mirror, and in his mirror, and in his texts with Magnus, and in his own mind - it’s all fine. But it’s not real. It’s not his life.

It’s morning now. Not the unrealistically early, ‘sneaking back from Magnus’s apartment’ morning. It’s just a regular old morning now. Which means Alec has shit he needs to do. Jace is looking for him (undoubtedly to get an early start on training before they get pulled into different meetings later in the afternoon). There are people Alec needs to meet with today. People who are going to see him.

So he can’t look like this.

He can’t be pretty.

It’s not like… it’s not like it’s a surprise. He knew this was going to happen. When Isabelle first started pressing those little dots of foundation onto his face, Alec knew he’d have to take it off. He just didn’t… think about it too much. Everything else was more important. Watching Isabelle do his makeup was so much more important than thinking about how he’d have to watch himself wash it off later. But he still knew. He knew he’d have to do this.

But now, looking at his face, looking at how _pretty_ his face is… and knowing he’ll have to wash it all away…

It doesn’t make any sense. He’s been wearing makeup for maybe thirty minutes. It shouldn’t _matter_ like this. He’s dealt with his plain face for his entire life. He’s dealt with hating his plain face for a decade, at least.

And he’s dealt with his made-up face - with looking at his face and actually _liking_ what he sees - for half an hour.

A handful of minutes, against his entire life. And somehow he still-

He feels like he has the right to be upset. The first time he’s ever worn makeup in his life, and suddenly he thinks he can be justifiably angry that he has to take it off. Like it’s unfair. Like it’s some sort of _injustice._

It’s ridiculous.

It’s fucking ridiculous.

It’s his own damn fault for letting Izzy do this. Because he knew. He damn well knew. He can’t suddenly decide he wants to ignore the existence of the world outside of Izzy’s bedroom, and let himself do this, let himself pretend he can have this…

And then be _upset_ when reality sets back in.

It’s his own fault.

He should never have done this. Never have let this happen. He should have stopped Isabelle. Told her he didn’t want it. Told her he wasn’t interested. He should have lied.

None of this would have happened if it weren’t for the goddamn hickey.

Part of Alec wants to use that to blame Magnus. Part of him is almost _mad_ at him for it. How the fuck did he not see it? Get rid of it? How did he let Alec leave without telling him? Did he _want_ Alec to be humiliated when he got home? Did he-

Alec takes a deep breath.

No.

He lets it out. Slowly.

It’s not Magnus’s fault. He’s not mad at Magnus. Of _course_ he’s not.

Because it’s Alec’s fault. He knows that. It’s his own goddamn neck. His own responsibility.

And it’s not like Magnus had just… _done_ this, on some whim. He’d asked. He always asks. He _asked_ Alec if he could do it.

(His nose pressed behind Alec’s ear. Breathing in, deeply. Scraping his teeth lightly along Alec’s jaw. The fingers of one hand running through Alec’s hair. And the fingers of his other hand… inside Alec. Gentle, and certain. His lips at Alec’s ear. “Alec, my angel, can I leave a mark?” And Alec had _begged_ him to. And kept begging, begging Magnus over and over again, until he came, with Magnus’s fingers still in him, and Magnus’s mouth still sucking the hickey onto his neck.)

Alec had begged for this hickey. It’s his own fucking fault. And with what’s happening now because of it, it sure as fuck doesn’t seem worth it. Last night it was just… too tempting. It felt too good.

It felt…

Alec looks at his neck. At the spot where the hickey is. Where he _knows_ the hickey is, even though he can’t see it - because he really can’t see it at all. Izzy knows her stuff. Alec’s not surprised. No one could possibly find it, even if they somehow knew to look for it. It’s fine. It’s taken care of.

It’s fine.

It’s fine.

It’s… fine. It’s…

It’s unfair.

It’s so fucking unfair.

He wanted this hickey so much. He’d _begged_ for it. It felt so good when he got it, so unbelievably good to have Magnus suck it onto his throat that whenever he thinks about it, he gets goosebumps. Just from remembering. And it’s not just because of the sex. It’s not because Magnus was having sex with him. It’s because Magnus _wanted_ him.

Magnus wanted Alec so much that he asked to leave a _mark_ on him. Something physical, and lasting (even if neither of them intended for it to last this long), and impossible to misinterpret. Alec still doesn’t know how to accept what… what Magnus feels for him. Whatever this whole thing… is. Alec doesn’t get it. And he can’t always _believe_ it.

And Magnus marked him. So Alec couldn’t ignore it. Couldn’t forget it. Magnus left a dark, lasting stamp on Alec’s skin. Because he wanted to. Because he wants Alec. When Magnus had given Alec this hickey, Alec had felt so good. Wanted, and pleasured, and cared for, and… maybe even… loved? Alec doesn’t really know what it feels like to be loved, but he imagines it feels a hell of a lot like how he’d felt last night. It’s stupid, but this hickey makes him feel nice. Makes him feel loved.

And he had to cover it up.

But that was his choice. He knows that. He could have left it, where anyone could see it. He asked Izzy to cover it for him. He _chose_ that.

Because no one would understand, if they saw it. They wouldn’t see how good Alec felt, how it made him feel valued, like he really mattered for a change. They wouldn’t see love. They’d just see sex. They’d see something dirty, and they’d assume things about what he and Magnus had done, and it would all be… muddied. Alec can’t let anyone tarnish this mark. It’s too important. They’d ruin it.

So he has to leave it covered up, and pretend it doesn’t exist. Like he never felt it. Like he never wanted it. Like Magnus never wanted him like that.

He looks at his reflection.

And…

He laughs. Just once. Weak, and bitter.

Because he wants to take off the makeup on his hickey, and he has to leave it on.

And he wants to leave on the makeup on his face. And he has to take it off.

It’s so unfair.

He reads the text again.

It’s simple enough. It’s… gentle. It’s a question. It’s _honestly_ a question. Magnus asked if he wants to talk about it. And Alec knows that if he doesn’t want to talk about it, Magnus will respect that. He’ll never bring it up again. He’s not prodding. He’s just trying to be helpful. He knows this is important. He-

Yeah. He knows this is important. Even though…

He shouldn’t. Because it _shouldn’t_ be important. It’s makeup. It’s just fucking makeup. It took twenty minutes, if that. It didn’t take any real effort - Izzy could have done it in her sleep. Hell, this whole ‘makeover’ bullshit is trivial enough that Jace barely even needed an explanation before he just… accepted it, and moved on.

It’s not important.

It’s _not_ important.

Alec closes his eyes.

It is. There’s no goddamn reason for it to be important, but it is. Alec knows it is. And… Magnus knows it is.

How does Magnus know? How can he tell? How does he _always_ know?

_Do you want to talk about it?_

Alec… does. He wants to talk about it. But…

How can he?

Alec still doesn’t understand it. Any of it. He doesn’t know why any of this matters. He doesn’t know why the makeup makes him feel so… good. He doesn’t know why he wants it. He doesn’t know why he can’t have it. He just knows that he can’t.

And, hell, if he hadn’t even been able to explain to _Izzy_ why Magnus can wear makeup and Alec can’t…

How the fuck can he explain it to Magnus?

His stomach twists up with nerves just thinking about it. Having to try and articulate everything he’s gone through today - and really, so much of this has actually been going on for _years,_ not just today. He’s gone his whole life being unable to express any of this to anyone. It’s not like he’s suddenly capable of gushing it all out just because… someone’s actually offering to listen to him.

He couldn’t tell Izzy. He can always tell Izzy everything, and he couldn’t tell her. So there’s no way he can tell Magnus.

He’ll just have to… deal with it. Wash off the makeup. Go get breakfast. Go find Jace. Go on with his life.

And forget this. Forget whatever this was.

He looks at his reflection.

And it’ll have to be enough. It should be enough. It should be plenty. Just knowing that it’s… possible. To look in the mirror, and not hate what he sees. He knows what that’s like now. That’s more than he’s ever had.

He looks back at his phone. Scrolls up a bit. Back to the picture he’d sent Magnus.

It doesn’t look the way he wanted it too. The image in the mirror is so much nicer. But the picture still has… whatever it is. He still looks nice. He still looks pretty.

He can still have that, at least. The picture. As proof. Proof that he can be pretty. It’ll…

It’ll be enough. It has to be enough.

He looks at the makeup wipes.

His stomach churns. His heart does something weird, like it’s trying to suck the rest of Alec’s insides into it. Because this is gonna suck.

This is gonna fucking _suck._

Yeah, it’s nice to know that he can look better, that there’s something he can do to his face to make himself stop hating it for a change. But right now, looking at the makeup wipes, knowing what he’s about to do… it almost makes it worse.

Because before today, he had no idea what he looked like with makeup on. His bare face was all he had. It was the only face he’d known.

And now, he has to go _back_ to that. After having something so much better. And it’s not just that it’ll be his plain, bare, ugly face. It’ll be even worse. Because he’ll be wiping off his pretty face. Actually watching it happen. Making it happen. He can’t even imagine how horrible his face is going to look when he _watches_ himself wash off the warmth, and the subtle glow, and the color around his eyes, and the blush on his cheeks that makes him look so… alive. Happy. He’ll have to watch this smooth, even skin get splotchy again. Pale, and drained, and probably red or irritated from scrubbing it clean.

He swallows.

He can’t do this.

And… by the Angel, how fucking pathetic is that? Alec is a grown man, who’s wasted his entire morning staring at his face in the mirror, staring at the _makeup_ on his face, and now that he’s forced to wash it all of, he feels-

Scared.

He’s fucking _scared_ of a goddamn makeup wipe.

He falls forward a bit, leaning his elbows on the dresser. He ducks his head and runs his hands through his hair. It’s getting hard to breathe, for some reason. For some reason, his eyes sting. And it’s ridiculous. He holds his face in his hands, like he can push all of this back inside and get himself under control-

He’s rubbing his eyes.

He pulls his hands away from his face so quickly it’s like they’ve shocked him. He looks at his fingertips-

Fuck.

There’s a bit of a shimmer on the pads of his fingers. A faint streak of brown and gray.

_Fuck._

Alec grits his teeth.

Fuck fuck fucking fuck fuck _fuck._

His hands curl into fists as he tries to take a deep enough breath to calm himself down. Once his jaw stops shaking, he risks a glance up in the mirror…

He laughs again. The same angry laugh. It’s a strange counterpart to the tears he has to furiously blink away.

Because that’s it.

It’s ruined.

He’s ruined it.

His eyeshadow is smeared. There are clear, finger-shaped streaks in the soft color. And there’s something dark smudged under his eyes. He can’t tell if it’s eyeliner or mascara… but he supposes it doesn’t really matter, does it?

He ruined it.

Alec doesn’t know what to do with himself. Too much is happening. He wants to sit down and start running and scream and cry and laugh and go ask Izzy to fix it for him and go back to sleep and go back to Magnus’s and forget this ever happened, and he wants this to be done - no matter what else, he _really_ wants this to be done. He needs this to be done.

Yeah.

He needs this to be done.

He takes a breath, and ignores how it makes his entire body tremble.

He picks up his phone. It’s been fifteen minutes since Magnus texted him.

_Do you want to talk about it?_

Alec finally responds.

_no._

His knees feel weak as he hits send. He tosses the phone onto his dresser, watching it skitter and slide before hitting the edge of the mirror. Right next to the makeup wipes.

Done. He needs to be done.

He gets a text, almost immediately. Magnus must have been waiting to hear back. Alec has to turn the phone around to read the screen.

_Alright. But if you change your mind…_

And that’s it. Magnus left it open, but still. It’s the end of the conversation. They both know it. Magnus is just saying that. Just to be polite. They both know that Alec’s never gonna be able to talk about this. It’s obvious.

He looks at his face in the mirror.

It’s a little… easier now. Because it’s ruined. The prettiness is tainted.

But it’s still… not horrible. It’s still sort of… nice.

He looks away from the mirror.

And he picks up the makeup wipes.

 

* * *

 

It’s weird, having Magnus wake up before him. It’s never happened before. Alec _always_ wakes up first. Whether by alarm or just his own stupid internal clock (which won’t let him sleep later than seven, even if he doesn’t fall asleep until six), he’s always up several hours before Magnus.

Which means that he’s used to getting ready by himself. He’s spent a good amount of nights here, so he’s spent a good amount of mornings, showering and getting dressed while Magnus stays sound asleep.

So it had damn near given him a heart attack when he was woken by Magnus’s alarm this morning. He’d never heard it before.

And it’s loud.

It’s fucking _loud._

Well, at least that explains why Magnus can sleep through Alec’s much quieter alarm without so much as flinching.

And it was… interesting. Because for the first time, _Alec_ was the one who groggily tried to respond when Magnus kissed his forehead before getting out of bed. When Alec’s own alarm had gone off ten minutes later, he’d woken up to the sound of the shower already running. The faint smell of brewing coffee creeping in through the bedroom door.

It was nice.

It felt oddly… domestic? Maybe? Normally, he’s the one turning on the lights, and opening the curtains, and making the loft feel like things are running for the day. And yeah, he likes it. But it’s a little bit isolated. He’s used to keeping himself quiet so he doesn’t wake up Magnus. He’s used to maneuvering by the light of his phone in pre-dawn darkness until he can find a lightswitch. He’s used to quiet, and darkness, and having to gaze longingly at his boyfriend - still allowed to sleep in the big, warm, comfy bed for _hours,_ his sleeping form basically begging Alec to come back and cuddle him for a bit longer.

But today, he woke up to noise. And light. And the smell of coffee. The loft already felt… alive. Like a home, not just a building. It was a new sensation, waking up in an empty bed, but knowing he wasn’t alone.

The precious few mornings that Alec’s gotten to wake up _with_ Magnus, both of them actually awake in bed at the same time, Alec’s always showered first. It’s not like it’s an intentional thing. It’s just how it’s worked out. So it was strange, getting into an already-wet shower, still a little warm and steamy, while Magnus went to get dressed.

And it had been _very_ strange, making the decision to leave the bathroom door cracked open.

That’s just… how things go here. The bathroom door stays unlocked and unlatched during showers. Regardless of which one of them is showering, and regardless of what else is going on. It’s just how it works. Alec picked up the habit from Magnus, assuming it was some sort of rule in the loft, and it’s stuck. Magnus leaves the door open so Chairman Meow won’t incessantly scratch at it (which is what he does to _any_ closed door, every time, _always_ ), and Alec _knows_ that’s the only real reason.

But lately, there’s been another… implication. A hint.

An invitation.

Magnus rarely showers when Alec is here. He intentionally showers in the mornings, after Alec leaves. He’s told Alec that he always used to shower at night. And he changed his routine, because apparently when Alec spends the night, “there are more _important_ things to do than waste time in the shower, Alexander.”

Alec still can’t get over that. The idea that he’s somehow ‘important’ enough to make Magnus Bane alter _anything_ about his daily routine. Especially something as basic and ingrained as when he showers. Fuck, Magnus could literally have been showering at night since the _invention_ of the shower.

And now, he’s changed his pattern. Because of Alec. Because he wants to spend as much time as possible with Alec.

It doesn’t make any sense.

And now, it makes even _less_ sense. Because recently, Magnus hasn’t said that he doesn’t want to waste time in the shower when Alec is here.

He’s said that he doesn’t want to waste time in the shower _alone._

He’s actually said that. He’s actually said those actual words. He’s actually said that he doesn’t want to shower alone if Alec is here.

And he leaves the bathroom door open.

In hopes that Alec will come into the shower with him.

It’s…

Alec’s been naked with Magnus so many times. More times than he can count. But only when they’re both under the sheets. Only when… only when they have sex. They’ve still never really _seen_ each other naked. Yeah, they’ve seen everything separately, but never all at once. Never just… totally naked. Completely exposed. Hell, even when Magnus gives Alec a blowjob, there’s still some sort of clothing involved. He’ll leave Alec’s underwear around his thighs, or let him keep his shirt on. Something. He’s never tried to get Alec naked in a situation where he’ll actually see him.

Which is why he hasn’t actually _tried_ to get Alec to shower with him. He’s just… offered. Left that tiny little hint. Left the bathroom door open.

Alec wants to. He thinks he wants to, anyway. It seems like something he should want. Getting to shower with Magnus. That’s… a ‘thing’. He knows it’s a thing. It’s something people do. Shower together. It’s a good opportunity, after all. The steam and the hot water and the close proximity and the feel of wet, soapy skin. By the Angel, it’s the _perfect_ opportunity for sex.

But it’s not just that. It’s still a shower. If he got into the shower with Magnus, they’d still need to do the actual _shower_ part of it. Shampoo and bodywash and facewash and just… being there. Naked. Standing naked in the bathroom, with that specific, plain, _boring_ purpose. It’s so…

It’s so intimate, somehow. It shouldn’t be, but it is. The idea of taking something as basic and personal as his shower routine… and having someone else there. Having someone else see it, and know it. It’s bizarre to think about. It’s not something he ever thought he’d share with someone. Magnus seeing Alec wash his hair. Magnus seeing Alec get soap in his eyes. Magnus seeing all the odd angles when Alec washes the bottoms of his feet or tries to get that one spot on his back he can’t quite reach. Alec’s never considered having anyone else see that. It’s too private. Just the thought makes his whole body thrum with preemptive self-consciousness.

He only understands nudity if it’s for sex. Because then, there’s a point to it. There’s a _purpose._ It’s because feeling skin against skin just feels so fucking good, so much better than when there’s clothing in the way. When they have sex, Alec isn’t naked with the intention of being seen. It’s so he can be felt. Magnus doesn’t really _look_ at him like that.

And in the shower, there wouldn’t be much of a choice, would there?

So it had almost been a little… frightening, when he left the bathroom door open before he got into the shower this morning. Because what if it seemed like the same kind of invitation that Magnus always leaves him? What if Magnus thought it meant Alec wanted him to join him?

The only reason he had the courage to leave the door open in the first place was because Magnus had literally just gotten out of the shower himself. He was getting dressed. There’s no way he’d think he was supposed to get back in the shower again two seconds after putting on clothes.

Well, that’s not the _only_ reason Alec did it. It was the logical reason, but not the only one.

Alec trusts Magnus. Alec trusts that because he still hasn’t let Magnus see him naked, Magnus won’t try to find an opportunity unless Alec specifically tells him it’s alright.

So when Magnus knocks on the open bathroom door (his usual, oddly musical knock), Alec doesn’t even feel a hint of anxiousness. “Come in,” he calls out over the sound of the water.

But since he knows Magnus isn't in here to try and see Alec, Alec doesn't actually know what he's doing. So, after a moment of gathering his courage, he looks over his shoulder-

The shower glass is frosted, and fogged up with steam. Magnus is blurry, more a collection of shapes and colors than an actual person. But Alec can tell that he’s hunched over the counter, looking in one of the drawers.

Looking in the drawer.

Looking the complete _opposite_ direction of the shower.

Alec smiles, though it sort of feels like he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t feel this burst of warmth in his chest because the guy he’s been dating for four months _isn’t_ trying to see him naked. It’s stupid. It’s ridiculous. But the stupidity is all Alec’s. The fact that Alec doesn’t want to be seen naked is stupid. The fact that Magnus understands that is…

It’s nice.

Alec almost laughs out loud when he hears the distinct sound of a hairdryer. He doesn’t know why. He just wasn’t expecting it.

It makes sense. Magnus’s hair is pretty long, and it’s not like he can do any of his usual… _stuff_ to it if it’s wet. But still. It’s kinda funny. That the High Warlock of Brooklyn is standing in his bathroom mirror right now, blowdrying his hair. It’s so… ordinary.

The few times that Alec’s been here when Magnus showers, he’s always let it dry naturally. Wrapped it up in a towel like a twisty hat for a little while, then left it down and damp. But Alec knows it takes a long-ass time to dry like that, and Magnus has places to be (which is why he’s up so goddamn early in the first place).

So here Alec is, showering. And Magnus is here with him, doing his hair. Like it’s just a thing. A thing that they do. Getting ready for the day. Separately, but still together.

And Alec realizes… he’s comfortable. Completely naked, in someone else’s bathroom, with his boyfriend _right there,_ just a few feet away. Because he knows he’s safe. Magnus is doing his own thing. Alec’s doing his. And it’s all okay.

Alec doesn’t even feel uncomfortable as he turns off the water. Grabs the towel that’s slung over the shower door. Quickly dries off before wrapping it around his hips.

Magnus is done with the hairdryer by the time Alec gets out of the shower. He’s working his fingers through his hair, brushing it back and away from his face.

He stops for a moment, to catch Alec’s eye in the mirror. He smiles softly, and gives Alec a quick, playful wink.

Alec grins like a goddamn idiot.

But Magnus is clearly busy, and Alec is only wearing a damp towel, so he manages to contain himself and leave the bathroom right away. _Maybe_ one or two stupid little chuckles get out of him, but that’s it. After all, it’s too early in the morning for him to get sappy. He hasn’t even had coffee yet - something that becomes even _more_ difficult to handle when he realizes he can smell it in the bedroom _and_ the closet. It must be done brewing by now. And it takes all of Alec’s self-control to focus on getting dressed before hunting it down.

He has a lot of clothes here. More than he probably should. But he doesn’t have a good way to bring them back. Because most of the time, when he comes back from Magnus’s, it’s first thing in the morning. And he’s trying not to be seen. Trying not to draw attention to himself. He’s not sure he can pull off ‘yeah I just went for a jog it's totally normal there's nothing suspicious going on here’ if he’s carrying a bundle of extra boxers and t-shirts.

Still, even if it’s starting to make a bit of dent in his wardrobe at the Institute… he kinda likes having clothes here. Having options, not just the _one_ outfit.

Well, it’s not like his ‘options’ are really very different from each other (it’s literally _all_ boxers, sweatpants, t-shirts, socks. And it’s all black. Every piece of it. Even all the socks), but it’s still something. He gets to choose which pair of faded sweatpants he puts on. He gets to make sure the socks don’t have holes in the heels - or at least, that he chooses the pair with the smallest holes. It’s small, but it’s something.

He has to fight off the temptation of coffee _again_ as he tries to sneak into the bathroom to hang up his towel without bothering Magnus-

He stops in the doorway.

Because Magnus is…

There’s an odd, intricate sort of pattern on his face. Different colors in different patches. And he’s in the process of blending it all together, with some sort of sponge-ish thing that’s shaped like a pointy egg. About half of his face is still harsh edges and clear outlines, but the rest of it is already smoothed into…

His face. Well, his ‘face’, his usual made-up face. The contour and highlight and softness that Alec is used to seeing pretty much any time he sees Magnus. It’s a bit subtler than it is when they go out somewhere, but Alec’s not sure if that’s because this is some different ‘work’ look, or if he’s gonna make things more intense as he goes.

Alec’s seen him do his makeup once before. But that time, it was only _part_ of it. Alec had gotten here an hour or two earlier than expected one evening, so Magnus was still in the process of getting ready. But it was just the latter half of things. The foundation was already done. Alec only saw him do his eyes and lips.

This is… this is all of it.

Magnus is just in a t-shirt and jeans (which is what Alec’s learned is his usual ‘getting ready’ outfit, presumably so he doesn’t get makeup or hair product on his nice clothes). His hair is definitely _up,_ in a sense, but it doesn’t look quite done yet. It’s like Magnus just wanted to get it out of his face, and he’s gonna do something much more drastic to it later.

His truly _gigantic_ makeup case is open in front of him on the counter - with the seemingly dozens of extra levels and compartments all spread open simultaneously, making it probably three times the size it is when it’s all closed up. But even though everything is open, the only thing that’s actually taken out is the sponge in Magnus’s hand. It’s an unusual image for Alec. Isabelle’s vanity always seems to be _covered_ in endless amounts of makeup, even though she has multiple cases and drawers for it. Alec wonders if she likes to see everything she’s going to be using, all at once, and Magnus prefers only dealing with one thing at a time.

Magnus’s phone is next to the sink, and it’s quietly playing some classical music that manages to sound _stupidly_ romantic, even though Alec has no idea what it is. But Magnus doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to it. He always hums along to whatever music happens to be playing (he even does it with commercials on tv if he knows the tune - which he usually does). And right now, he’s silent. All of his focus is being given to what he’s doing.

All of his focus is on the sponge, and his face. It’s honestly not even clear if Magnus is aware that Alec is watching him. He certainly hasn’t acknowledged Alec at all.

Which means… Alec can keep watching.

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. This is private. This is such a… _personal_ thing. When Alec watched him do his eye makeup a few weeks ago, Magnus had specifically told him that he could. Now Alec is just…

Trespassing.

This isn’t his to see. He can’t watch this. He can’t have this.

But… he can’t look away. It’s like he’s hypnotized by the steady, fluid movement of Magnus’s hand. By the way the harsh colors smooth so easily into a glowing, _beautiful_ face. Alec can’t look away. It’s too beautiful. He can’t bear to miss a moment of it. Just the thought of looking away makes his heart speed up.

Or maybe… his heart is racing… just because of what he’s seeing. This makeup. This beautiful makeup, on this beautiful man. It’s-

“Care to join me?”

Magnus’s voice is light. Casual. Like it’s a simple offer. Like…

It’s been two weeks. Since Isabelle did Alec’s makeup. Since Alec showed it to Magnus. And since he told Magnus that he didn’t want to talk about it.

And Magnus hasn’t talked about it. Hasn’t brought it up.

Isabelle hasn’t mentioned it either. That day, she saw that Alec wiped off the makeup, and she hadn’t said anything. Alec had told Jace that he was just indulging Izzy, and he washed it off right away because it was a joke. And Jace accepted that, and hasn’t brought it up again. No one has. For two weeks, it’s been like it never happened.

And now…

“I…” Alec’s voice is weak. He’s too startled. It’s like he’s still hypnotized. But then, “No. No, I…” he swallows. “I can’t.”

Magnus’s hand stills, holding the sponge to his jaw. He glances at Alec in the mirror.

Alec looks away. Down to the towel that’s still in his hands.

“Well,” Magnus says in that same, easy voice, “would you like to watch? You don’t have to lurk ominously in the doorway.”

Alec’s eyes snap back up to him.

Magnus is smirking lightly at his own reflection. And he just keeps blending.

Alec opens his mouth. Closes it again. Takes a breath. “You wouldn’t mind? It’s not… weird?”

Magnus raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think I’ll start selling tickets to the public. But for _certain_ people,” he looks at Alec with that small smile of his, “I don’t mind at all.”

Something swarms in Alec’s stomach. Like butterflies, but sharper. And even though he’s not quite sure what he’s feeling…

He steps into the bathroom. He hangs his towel on the hook on the back of the door-

And he’s not sure what to do. Can he just…?

Magnus smiles to himself. And - because he always knows what Alec’s thinking - he nods toward the counter.

Right next to him.

Alec tries to take a deep breath, but it ends up feeling strained. Still, he goes over to the counter.

But it feels like a bit too _much_ to literally sit down right next to Magnus and just _stare_ at him while he’s trying to get ready for the day. So Alec keeps a bit of distance. He sits at the far end of the counter, only a few inches in from the door. The bathroom is so ridiculously big that it leaves a foot or two of empty counter space between him and Magnus.

But it’s still… kinda nice. Weirdly nice. For Alec to sit on the marble counter top, leaning back against the mirror (he’ll clean off the smudges when he’s done), watching Magnus. It’s a nice angle. Because they’re technically facing each other, but the little bit of distance means they aren’t actually _looking_ at each other. So Alec can watch Magnus do his makeup, without being in Magnus’s way. Magnus is still looking straight ahead, right in the mirror, but Alec’s pretty sure he’s far enough in Magnus’s periphery to not be a distraction.

It’s… yeah. It’s nice.

It’s still a little weird, but it’s mostly nice.

Magnus tilts his face, like he’s making sure he blended everything evenly. Alec feels a pang of deja vu, remembering how he’d made the same little movements himself when he was looking at the makeup Isabelle had done for him.

Apparently, Magnus is satisfied. Because he puts the sponge in a perfectly sponge-shaped space in his makeup case. He rummages around for a moment, and pulls out-

It’s a stupidly big compact. And inside it is a stupidly big powder-puff thing. It’s like the one Isabelle used, but it’s a little… flatter? It’s less of a ‘puff’ and more of a pad. And it’s not pink. It’s a shade that’s so close to Magnus’s skin tone that Alec can only assume it used to be white at one point, and it’s just absorbed that much makeup over time. It may be less pretty than what Isabelle had used, but it looks a bit more practical.

And as Alec watches Magnus powder his face - pressing it in with dozens of small, firm movements - he starts realizing how strange it’s going to keep watching. Because it’s different now. Alec may have seen Magnus do this before, but this time…

Alec knows what it’s like. What Magnus is doing to himself is exactly what Isabelle had done to Alec. So as Alec watches Magnus smooth the powder over his forehead, Alec remembers what it’s like. What it had felt like. He knows.

His throat is tightening. Closing up. Because he’s watching Magnus do this and he knows Magnus _always_ does this and it makes so much _sense_ that Magnus is doing this… and Alec knows how it feels. And seeing Magnus get to do this, get to _have_ this, just reminds Alec how much he can’t have it. But he’s struck with the knowledge of what it’s like, how it feels, and it makes it all wrong. Because Magnus is allowed to have this, and Alec isn’t, so Alec shouldn’t know what it feels like, it’s wrong, it’s all wrong, Alec is wrong, there’s something wrong with him-

“It m- it makes _sense._ For you.” Alec sputters in a small voice, the words already out by the time he’s registered that he’s talking.

Magnus pauses again, and Alec can’t tell if it’s because of what he said, or because he's checking his face.

After a moment, he closes the compact and puts it back in his makeup case. He takes out a big, fluffy brush, and dusts his face with it. “But it doesn’t make sense for you?” He keeps his focus on the mirror. He doesn’t look at Alec.

Alec is _immensely_ grateful for that, since he can feel his face heating up. He’s not sure if it’s because of the situation, or how ridiculous he just sounded, or how fucking helpless and _stupid_ he feels for not being able to fucking talk about this like a normal person. Literally the only response he can possibly think of is just a pathetic, useless, “No.”

“Why not?”

Magnus is still using that voice. The one that’s easy and almost… flippant. Like what he’s saying isn’t important. But he does it because he knows that what he’s saying _is_ important. Important enough that Alec doesn’t know how to talk about it. So Magnus uses this voice, pretends that it’s a casual conversation about nothing at all. He makes it easy.

Alec’s chest constricts, like his ribcage is trying to close in and smother his heart. Why is Magnus like this? Why does he always think of things like this? Why is he so thoughtful? Why does he… care?

“I don’t, uh-” Alec cuts himself off, rolling his eyes at the sound of his own stupid voice. “I don’t… understand it.”

Magnus’s eyebrows furrow for a moment. It looks strange, because the rest of his face is smiling. He’s doing blush now, a shade that’s so subtle that Alec’s not sure he’d notice it’s there if he weren’t actually _watching_ it happen. Magnus follows the shape of his cheek as he smiles, and Alec can tell that the smile is just a placeholder. It’s not genuine. Magnus looks confused. “Do you mean, you don’t understand how it works?”

Alec frowns. “No-” he cuts himself off. Because, well, that’s not _not_ the problem. It’s not like one makeover means Alec feels like he has actual, functional knowledge of how this stuff works.

But still, that’s not the _real_ problem. That’s like a little mini-problem, one that would only matter in a world where the other, more important problems didn’t exist.

“No,” Alec tries again. “No, it’s…” he breathes out through his nose, like a half-assed laugh. Because… “I don’t know.” He’s been trying to figure this out for weeks. He hasn’t gotten anywhere.

Magnus tilts his head again, checking either side of his face. “Alright. So you don’t know why you can’t wear it.” He’s silent for a moment. Like he’s giving Alec the chance to contradict him.

But Alec can’t. It’s true. He doesn’t know. He’s just surprised to hear Magnus say it. Hear someone else actually say out loud what Alec’s been telling himself for so long.

Magnus puts away his blush and looks through the case for a few seconds. But it doesn’t look like he’s _really_ looking. It’s more like he’s… stalling. He’s too casual about it. “Do you know why you _want_ to wear it?”

Alec’s mouth falls open.

His breath leaves him.

“It’s…”

He hasn’t… thought of it like this before. He hasn’t asked himself this question. Why… why hasn’t he thought of this yet?

“It’s… nice?” Alec offers. It sounds small. Weak. Everything he’d felt that day, looking in Izzy’s mirror, looking in his own mirror, having Magnus call him beautiful, Alec actually _believing_ him.

And all he can say is that it was ‘nice’.

Magnus smiles down at his makeup. “Well, I certainly won’t argue with that.” He opens a tube of something, getting a small drop of it on the pad of his finger, then delicately dabbing it onto one of his eyelids.

Alec tips his head back against the mirror. “Why do _you_ like to wear it?”

Magnus freezes, but it’s only for a moment. He obviously wasn’t expecting the question, but he covers his surprise quickly enough. He keeps lightly smoothing the seemingly-translucent cream onto his eyes. And he smirks. “Darling, I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that it makes me look _amazing._ ”

Alec laughs. It’s quiet, but it’s a welcome break from whatever’s swimming around in his brain. “And that’s it? That’s enough… to be worth it?” His hands start moving against his thighs, because his words aren’t working right. He tries to sort out his thoughts in a way that Magnus will actually be able to understand. “Because it’s not just…” he makes a noise of frustration. “It’s- you, ah. Doesn’t anyone ever… y’know. Give you shit for it? It’s not-” he doesn’t want to say that it's not ‘normal’, but he doesn’t know how else to articulate this. “People don’t always like seeing it. On… yeah.” It’s not enough, but he doesn’t think his voice will hold any longer.

Magnus is still looking in the mirror. He looks like he’s thinking. But for all Alec knows, he’s just deciding what color eyeshadow he wants to start with.

Apparently, it’s both. Because he takes out a brush and a palette as he answers. “What you might not realize, Alexander, is that when I first started wearing makeup, it was because men wore makeup.” He starts working on his left eye, with a soft peach color. “In that time and place, it was the fashion. So as a fashionable man in that society, it was _expected_ of me. I was following the trend, not setting it. There was no bravery involved.”

That’s-

Oh.

Alec hadn’t… He didn’t know that. Yeah, he’s aware that Magnus has been around long enough to see a shitload of different fashions and trends, but he still didn’t… know about this one. Because it’s such a strange thought. That Magnus Bane ever did anything just because everyone else was doing it first. That there was-

That there was a time _before_ what he is now. A time when he didn’t look like this yet.

“Really?”

“Mm-hm.” Magnus smiles, dusting a bit of stray eyeshadow from under his eye with a fluffy brush before going back to his work. “But of course, when everyone else suddenly decided that men should _stop_ wearing makeup, _I_ decided that everyone else should mind their own damn business.”

Alec makes a little hum of a laugh. Because, yeah. That’s not surprising.

Magnus leans forward a bit, making some intensely precise shape in the inner corner of his eye. He’s still got that little, fond smile. “I had fallen in love with cosmetics, and I wasn’t going to let anyone tear us apart.” He narrows his eyes, obviously disliking either what he said, or what he did with his eyeshadow. “Well, I suppose that’s not entirely accurate. My relationship with makeup has waxed and waned over the years. I barely wore it at all in the nineteenth century - men were _horrifically_ boring in their fashion choices back then. You wore the slightest hint of something pretty and suddenly everyone was calling you satanic. It was _exhausting._ ” He rolls his eyes, but he’s also smirking a bit. “It came back a bit in the early twentieth century. But my _current_ obsession with makeup didn’t start until the seventies.” He glances over at Alec-

And he must be able to read Alec’s expression, because he raises an eyebrow. “You look surprised,” he says, almost playfully.

Alec tries to respond, but he hasn’t picked the words yet. His hands start scratching at his sweatpants again. “Y-yeah. I guess…” he presses his lips together. “I guess it’s kinda… weird. Trying to picture you. Without all of… this.” And the words sound so goddamn stupid coming out of his mouth that he has to laugh, just to make sure Magnus knows that _he_ knows how ridiculous it is for him to say it.

But Magnus smiles, and it looks completely sincere. He switches out his brush, and starts using a different shade of eyeshadow. Darker. More colorful. “Well it’s true. I didn’t always look like this. I was once _perfectly_ ordinary.”

Alec chokes on a laugh. Because that’s like… blasphemy. That’s fucking _stupid._

Magnus smirks, and holds himself a little more upright. Defensively. Like he’s preening. “Obviously it didn’t last very _long,_ but still.” He shrugs one shoulder. “I wasn’t exactly _raised_ to be this exquisite. My fashion choices are just that. Choices. Carefully crafted over many, _many_ years.” He lowers his brush, and takes a moment. Just to look at himself. “Everything I am is what I’ve made myself to be.”

He smiles, so small it’s barely noticeable.

And he goes back to his eyeshadow. “So, whatever quality you see that makes it make sense for me to wear makeup,” he looks at Alec, holds his gaze, “it’s not inherent. It was learned.”

Alec’s face heats up. He wants to speak, but he doesn’t have anything to say.

Magnus doesn’t say anything else either. He focuses on his makeup. On his sure, steady, artistic movements. He’s obviously nowhere near done, but his eyes already look so, _so_ beautiful. Framed with peach and gold and bright glitter.

And Alec’s just sitting here. Watching. So his heart shouldn’t be racing like this.

Magnus…

He just… changed something.

Because that word. ‘Learned.’ It’s so… unexpected. It’s small. This whole _thing,_ this look that Magnus always has, his comfort with wearing whatever he wants, _being_ whatever he wants, letting himself have these things that are so pretty…

It was _learned._ He made the decision at some point. Alec knows that rationally, this should be obvious. Obviously Magnus chooses what he wants to wear. How he wants to look. How he wants to be seen.

But somehow, Alec’s always thought of him as just… always being exactly what he is now. It’s strange to find out that Magnus’s impossible grandeur was gained by a method as ordinary as _choice._ Learning to be like this. Deciding what he wants, and then learning how to get it. Learning how to have it. It’s so simple. It’s so-

Attainable.

That’s…

That’s what Magnus means. Alec knows it. That’s why Magnus used that word. Because if Magnus can _learn_ how to let himself be this pretty…

Then so can Alec.

It hits Alec so hard that he actually has to fight to keep himself from gasping.

But, there’s still-

“Then, how did… um.” He closes his eyes. Tries to sort out the thousands of thoughts that are all fighting to be spoken. “If you wore it ‘cause it was… normal, does that mean-” his mouth forms a few words without voicing them. “Did people ever… dislike that you…” his throat makes a weird noise.

But Magnus doesn’t need to hear the rest. He smirks, and raises an eyebrow. “Has anyone ever given me shit because of the way I look?”

Alec lets out a breath of relief at being so easily understood. “Yeah.”

“Of _course_ they have, sweetheart,” Magnus says wryly. “Even when it’s been the height of fashion, there have been plenty of people who openly and _loudly_ hated it.” He drops his brush back into the case, like punctuation.

Alec’s jaw tightens. “How can you _deal_ with that?” His voice is substantially louder and angrier than he wants it to be. But it’s not really anger. It’s exasperation. Because this is it. This is what’s been stopping him. Yeah, there’s _plenty_ of other stuff, but this… He can’t get past this.

“How do you just… see that, and hear that, all the fucking time, and still _do_ it? I don’t- it’s too… too much.”

He runs out of steam, and crumples a bit on the counter. He doesn’t understand why just _talking_ about this is managing to exhaust him so much.

Maybe this just isn’t a good conversation to have at six in the morning.

When he manages to get up the courage, he looks at Magnus.

Magnus isn’t looking at him. He’s holding the smallest brush he’s used so far in one hand, and a palette of dark colors in the other. He’s focused on the mirror, but he’s not doing anything.

It feels like it takes a few _hours_ for him to start moving again. He carefully starts tracing a dark line on his eyelid, his hand perfectly steady (Alec can’t help but feel a little jealous - his own hands have been shaking for several minutes now).

Magnus makes a small, thoughtful sound. “People have been hating me my whole life, Alexander. Since I was ten years old. It’s basically all I know.” He says it lightly, but it’s not enough to counteract the severity of the words. “I learned a long time ago that my opinion is infinitely more important than theirs. It’s been four hundred years. If I let myself care about their hatred, I wouldn’t have made it this far.”

He pulls back for a moment. Blinks. Alec can’t tell if he’s looking at his makeup… or just at himself. But his eyes are as intense as Alec’s ever seen them.

And then, the moment breaks. And Magnus smiles. It’s playful, but warm, and completely genuine.

“After all, what would be the point in living forever if I weren’t _madly_ in love with myself?”

He hums happily, and leans back in to the mirror, lifting his brush up to his other eye.

And Alec just… watches him. Keeps watching. Keeps breathing.

Magnus’s phone is still playing that same music. Alec’s not sure if it’s on repeat or if it’s a _really_ long song, but it’s definitely still the same thing. Even though they must have been sitting here for at least ten minutes by now.

Alec… breathes.

He tries to think, but it’s like his mind has gone numb.

Because this is so… much. He’s not used to it.

Magnus doesn’t usually talk about himself like this. Yeah, he talks to Alec, all the time. He tells Alec stories, from the grand and unbelievable to the small and commonplace. But even though Magnus is _in_ the stories, it somehow always feels like they’re not really about _him._ It’s about the event. It’s about what happened to him, not what… not what he thought about it. How he felt. He tells stories about things that he did and the people who were with him. He doesn’t just… talk. About himself. How he got here. What he’s faced to get here.

It’s not like it’s completely surprising. It’s easy enough to infer - from what he’s said, and just from the basic facts - that Magnus has dealt with a lot of shit. From bigoted Shadowhunters. From bigoted mundanes. From everyone. Alec’s become unfortunately used to that idea.

He’s _not_ used to having Magnus stand here and blatantly say that it’s normal for him to feel hated. To say something like that, lightly, and _smile_ as he does it. Like it’s nothing. Just a little fact. Just… how his life goes. How it’s always gone. Since… since he was a child? Ten years old seems too specific to be random. He could have just said ‘since childhood’. But he said since he was ten years old, specifically. There’s… there’s gotta be something about that-

But this isn’t the time to ask for details. Hell, it’ll probably _never_ be the right time for Alec to ask something like that.

Besides, that’s not the point Magnus was trying to make. At least, Alec doesn’t think it was.

Magnus is still tracing dark, thick shapes along the edges of his eyeshadow. Alec can’t imagine what final look he’s working toward. There’s clearly something going on that’s far too complicated for Alec’s comprehension.

But… maybe he could learn…

His stomach ties into a sudden, tight knot. Because he could. He _could_  learn how to have this. How to let himself have this. The complex, _beautiful_ artwork on Magnus’s face… Alec could have that for himself. It’s possible. If Magnus can learn all of it-

Alec frowns, and hopes Magnus doesn’t notice.

Alec isn’t Magnus. The mere idea of comparing them is almost comically stupid.

Magnus has had _hundreds_ of years. Magnus has experienced things Alec can’t even believe (and that’s just the stuff that Alec actually _knows_ about). Magnus has had so much time, and so much reason, and so much opportunity to become this… strong.

Magnus is stronger than Alec can comprehend. Because when someone hates Magnus, he laughs at them. Magnus is strong enough, and confident enough in himself and his choices, that he knows he’s right, and they’re wrong. When someone hates Magnus, he doesn’t change a thing.

When someone hates Alec, it destroys him.

And he knows that for a fact. Because he’s seen plenty of it lately. He knew to expect it, but still. Whether it’s because of the particular man he’s with, or just because he’s with a man at all, he sees it. He hears it.

Conversations in the Institute that abruptly end as soon as he enters the room. Complaints made right in front of him, just vague enough that they don’t directly use his name. Things said by strangers who suddenly have an opinion about him. Things said by people he’s known his whole life.

Things said by his parents. To members of the Clave. To each other. To him.

It’s only been four months. But it’s like he’s been shown the entire lifetime’s worth of disapproval and contempt that they _would_ have been showing him this whole time if they’d only known sooner.

Alec’s not used to it yet. He’s not sure if he’ll ever be used to it. He’s used to worry. Fear. He knows what to do with that.

He doesn’t know what to do with outright hatred.

Maybe if he had a few hundred years to practice, like Magnus, he’d have his sort of confidence. Alec can’t even imagine looking at himself in a mirror and saying ‘I’m not completely horrible,’ much less actually saying he _loves_ himself, like Magnus just did.

That’s it. That’s what he can’t do.

It’s not that he can’t wear makeup. It’s that he can’t have anyone see him wear makeup.

He can’t face that response. The disapproval. The hatred. Piled on top of everything _else._ They already hate him for so many things that he can’t change. Can’t help. How could he possibly _choose_ to willing add on to that? Make it worse?

His heart is racing again. His breathing is uneven. His hands keep tensing and flexing, grasping at nothing. He’s sitting on a goddamn counter in his boyfriend’s bathroom, but it feels like he’s getting ready to jump off a cliff.

“I don’t need to give them another reason to hate me. I can’t.”

Well. At least his voice was reasonably steady.

Magnus stops. He looks over in the mirror, like he’s checking to see if Alec is looking at him. And then he turns his head, just far enough to hold Alec’s gaze.

He’s not smiling. Not quite, anyway. But he looks… gentle. “I think that’s perfectly understandable, Alexander.”

By the Angel.

That’s… nothing. It’s _nothing._ It’s the simplest sentiment imaginable.

But Alec feels so… validated. Just-

That’s all it takes. Someone telling him it’s understandable. Someone saying it makes sense for him to think like this. Feel like this. Alec has felt so wildly unreasonable, this whole time, about all of it. He’s felt petty, and immature, and weak. To be afraid of what people think of him. To be afraid of something as trivial as makeup.

But Magnus thinks it makes sense. Magnus understands it.

Magnus understands him.

Alec swallows. And blinks too hard.

He opens his mouth. Because he needs to say something, doesn’t he? It seems like he should. If he’s feeling this much, he should say something.

Magnus beats him to it. “However…” he dramatically twirls his brush between his fingers and leans back in toward the mirror, “You’re not always at the Institute, you know.”

Alec’s pulled out of his thoughts so suddenly that it’s disorienting. “What?” His brain is struggling to catch up.

Magnus hums noncommittally. His tone is suspiciously casual. “The beautiful thing about makeup is that it’s impermanent. The on and off aspects of it are quite simple.” He smudges a thick line under his eye with mesmerizing precision. “So, for those times when you happen to be in a less _strict_ environment…” his voice trails off, in that way that makes it so _painfully_ clear that he expects Alec to fill in the rest of his sentence.  

So Alec does.

And that means…

“Magnus…”

“All I’m saying, angel, is that change doesn’t have to be instantaneous. Or complete.” He swaps out his brush for something that looks almost identical. But he doesn’t put anything on it. He starts running back over what’s already on his eyes… and it all starts blending together. The dark eyeliner melds with the bright eyeshadow, and suddenly the harsh lines and angles become subtle and gradual. “You can pick and choose. In as many or as few steps as you’d like. It’s not all or nothing. If you want, you can just do certain things. In certain places.”

Alec thinks he’s probably blushing, even though he has no idea why.

“You mean… here,” he says quietly. His throat is dry.

Magnus raises his eyebrows in mock surprise, like he’s pretending he hadn’t thought of it before. “Hm, now that you mention it.” The corner of his mouth twists up in half a smirk. “Off the top of my head, I certainly can’t think of anyone in this apartment who would give you any trouble for how you look.” He purses his lips, and tilts his head. “Well, the Chairman is _horribly_ judgy, but that’s just our burden to bear.”

After a moment, he turns to Alec. And he smiles. “It’s only an offer, darling.”

“I…” Alec’s lips move, but not enough to form words. All of his words are gone.

Magnus looks back to the mirror. Breaks the moment. Lets Alec think. Lets him breathe.

Here…

He’s right.

It’s not surprising that he’s right, but still. He is.

Alec had been fine when he wore makeup in Izzy’s room. When he looked in his own mirror. It was only when he looked at the door that things got complicated. When he knew other people would see him. When everyone else got involved.

But, here…

Alec’s heart is speeding up again. But this time, it’s not because of nerves. It’s because of the butterflies in his stomach. Everything inside him is speeding up.

With excitement.

He’s not here very often. Their dates are already rare enough, and it seems like they just get rarer as the months pass. But sometimes. Sometimes he’s here all night. Like he was last night. He came over for dinner. They’d spent hours together. Alec had spent all evening in this loft. In the grand scheme of things, it’s not a lot of time.

But for this, it’s plenty.

He remembers how he felt when he looked in the mirror. How he looks in that shitty picture that’s still buried somewhere in his phone. He thinks about how good it felt.

And he imagines getting to feel it again. And again, and again.

Here.

Coming over for a date, knowing he’s going to spend the night, knowing he gets to spend a whole night with Magnus…

And putting on makeup. In this mirror, right here, with Magnus. It’s-

“Yeah.”

Magnus looks back at him, one eyebrow raised.

Which makes sense, since it’s not like Alec had been asked a yes or no question. So he clarifies, as soon as it feels like his voice will hold. “Yeah, that’s- that sounds nice.”

Magnus smiles again. The little one, the one that Alec loves seeing. He loves it so much. He loves-

“Alright, sweetheart,” Magnus says gently. And he sounds… he sounds happy. Genuinely happy, about something so… silly. So small.

And then he takes a sudden, sharp breath. He makes an excited little sound in the back of his throat, and starts looking through his makeup case.

It takes a few seconds of moving and shifting and searching before he gives a triumphant “Ah ha!” He pulls out a slender, pink tube.

And he holds out it to Alec.

Alec feels almost wrong-footed as he takes it from him, because he doesn’t know what’s-

“Lip gloss?”

Magnus shrugs, with a bright smile. “You have to start somewhere.”

Alec looks down at the tube. Because this is…

This is Magnus’s makeup.

And Alec’s allowed to… wear it? That doesn’t seem right. Even though it’s small and unbearably plain, this tiny tube of gloss still probably cost a small fortune for some reason.

It’s a pretty shade. It’s a muted pink. Rich, and kinda dark. At least a few shades darker than Alec’s lips. It looks like there might be a bit of glitter in it? Or maybe that’s just in the actual glass of the tube, not the gloss.

Well, there’s only one way to find out.

He unscrews it, and carefully pulls out the applicator.

Yeah, the shimmer is in the gloss.

He doesn’t really think he makes the decision to stand up, but when he looks up, he’s facing the mirror. Facing himself in the mirror. With this lip gloss in his hand.

He takes a deep breath.

It’s smooth. A little thicker than he was expecting. It inexplicably smells a bit like candy. The applicator is softer than it looks. It feels… nice.

He’s not sure how much he’s supposed to use. But he figures less is probably more with something this _goopy,_ so he just swipes it across his lower lip once. And he rubs his lips together.

It’s not much. Yeah, it's still more than he was expecting - since the color is so similar to his plain lips - but it’s not a drastic change. His lips are just a _bit_ more colorful than usual. Shiny. With that little bit of sparkle. It’s such a small difference.

But it’s pretty.

It’s _so_ pretty.

And he knows he’ll have to wipe it off. Just like last time. He knows he’ll have to get a makeup wipe (or probably just a tissue? This shouldn’t be too hard to get rid of), and take it off, and pretend like it never happened. So he can go back to the Institute. But now, that doesn’t bother him.

Because now, he knows that he’ll be able to put it back on. Maybe not for a while, but eventually. He’ll come back here, and he’ll put on more lip gloss. Hell, maybe even more than that. Maybe an entire face of makeup, like what Izzy had done for him. He can do that.

He can have that.

“Hm. That’s a good color for you,” Magnus says lightly. Easily. Like it’s easy. It's _easy._

Alec ducks his head as he twists the lip gloss back into the tube, trying to hide his smile (because it feels _far_ too stupid for Alec to let anyone see it). He deflects instead. “So, can I… ah. Can I keep this?” He holds up the lip gloss.

Magnus frowns at Alec’s dumb grin. “Of course not.” He snatches the tube out of Alec’s hand with a melodramatic little huff. “It’s my favorite.” He puts it back in the case, almost protectively.

But he smiles as he goes back to finishing his eyeliner. “We’ll just have to get you your own, won’t we?”

Alec looks up. Looks at his reflection in the mirror.

It’s small. A little bit of color. A little bit of gloss.

But it’s pretty.

And it’s his.

He smiles.

“Yeah. That’d be nice.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been almost seven months since I posted "Beautiful" (what??? how??????), so I thought it's probably about time that I filled in the rather gaping plot hole of how that story actually ended.
> 
> Also, to anyone keeping score, this chapter officially makes the entire ALDNT series clock in at over 200,000 words, so to anyone reading this, thank you _so much_ for sticking with me this long!  <3


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s nice. Settling into a comfy chair. With a mug of hot coffee. Still in his pajamas. In this surprisingly cozy library. Hearing the sound of rain outside. A rainy morning, in a comfy chair, with coffee. With Magnus.  
> And with nothing to do.

Alec pours two cups of coffee.

One into the gigantic green mug. That’s Magnus’s. And one into the slightly-more-reasonably-sized purple mug. That’s his.

He sets down the carafe (which still has what should be a full day’s worth of coffee in it, but Alec knows by now that they’ll go through the whole thing in two hours, tops), and picks up the two mugs, and-

Oh.

What is…

Why did he-?

Magnus didn’t ask for coffee. Magnus didn’t say it was okay for Alec to rummage through his kitchen and mess with his appliances and smell all of his different bags of coffee beans to decide which kind would be the best. Alec didn’t ask if this was okay.

It’s not like this is the first time Alec’s made coffee here. That’s definitely something he does. On occasion. But only after he asks if he can. Only after Magnus specifically gives him permission.

Well, ‘permission’ might be overstating it. Magnus has always been perfectly happy to have Alec make coffee for them. And he’s said, damn near every time Alec’s asked, that he doesn’t _need_ to ask. So it’s not like Alec thinks he’d mind.

But, still. He didn’t ask this time.

He always asks.

It’s… weird. He just _did_ it. Without thinking. After they got out of bed this morning, Magnus went right to the closet to get dressed. And Alec went right to the kitchen, to make them coffee.

And it’s like he’s just now realizing that he did it. It’s like he was an autopilot. Wake up, get out of bed, make coffee.

Well, more accurately: wake up, kill time playing solitaire until Magnus wakes up, spend a ridiculous amount of time kissing, _then_ get out of bed to make coffee.

Maybe that’s part of it. This was the first morning that he’s ever gotten to wake up _with_ Magnus. Both of them in bed at the same time, waking up together, and starting the morning together. It’s…

It’s definitely new.

He doesn’t have to go back to the Institute until later tonight. Very late tonight. He’s got a few nights in a row of shitty overnight patrols scheduled, so they’re giving him the day off like some sort of consolation prize for the fact that he was working until three a.m. last night, and tonight he’ll probably be working until _dawn_. But even if it’s pretty shitty for a work schedule…

It means he has the whole day.

The whole day off, to spend with Magnus.

That’s kinda ridiculous, when Alec thinks about it. They’ve been together for two months. More than that, technically. It’s more like two and a half now. Two and a half months. And this is the _first_ time they’ve been able to spend a day together. A full day, not just a squeezed-in half an hour when their lunch breaks happen to coincide.

This is an entire day. They might not have gone to sleep together (Magnus had left the apartment unlocked so Alec could sneak into bed with him sometime around four. And even though Magnus has some fucked-up sleep patterns, Alec can assume he’d been asleep for at least a little while by then), but they’d woken up together. And now they can do… whatever. Without the pressure of a tight time constraint. They have a bit of freedom. Freedom to not have to worry about making the most of their time. Freedom to do… nothing, if they want. It’s new.

It’s nice.

Nice enough that Alec apparently felt bold enough to make coffee for them without even thinking about it.

Except…

He wanders out of the kitchen, a mug in each hand, and…

He’s alone.

If he hadn’t specifically heard Magnus walking around while he was busy making coffee, Alec would probably think he’d gone back to bed. Alec knows it’s still kinda on the early side for Magnus to be awake. That’s probably not ideal for a day off.

But he _did_ hear Magnus walking around. It had sounded like he was still in the living room somewhere. So Alec knows he’s here.

Somewhere.

The bedroom light is off. The balcony is empty. Chairman Meow usually stays right at Magnus’s feet for the first hour or two after he wakes up (though he’ll settle for following Alec on mornings when Alec wakes up before Magnus), and he’s nowhere to be seen.

Alec’s alone.

“Mags?”

“Library,” comes the response, somewhat muffled. Distant.

Oh.

So…

Um.

Alec goes past the kitchen table. Past the spare bedroom. Past the guest bathroom. He’s never…

He’s never been over here.

It’s a weird thought. The loft isn’t _that_ big. It’s still a loft. An open, unobstructed space, with all the different rooms and nooks and crannies more-or-less visible right when you walk in. It’s not like the library is hidden. It’s not like he hasn’t seen the door every single time he’s been here. It’s not like this far corner of the loft is somehow unfamiliar to him.

He’s just never… been inside. It’s a door. That’s all he knows of it. A closed door.

It’s the only closed door in the apartment. That’s made pretty damn obvious by the fact that the bottom of it is _covered_ in claw marks from the Chairman (who thinks closed doors are a gross personal offense). It’s the only room where a cat can’t be left unsupervised. It’s too dangerous.

Because the library is where Magnus works.

Alec doesn’t really know the full scope of things Magnus does for his work, but it’s easy enough to understand why he wouldn’t want a cat wandering around in there when no one else is home.

Alec’s never been in the library before. Even though he’s never specifically… thought of it that way. It’s not like he feels like he’s not _allowed_ to go in there. But he’s instinctively come to the conclusion that he doesn’t _need_ to go in there. It’s none of his business. It’s Magnus’s business.

It’s _literally_ Magnus’s business.

The door is open. It’s not open wide enough for Alec to see in, but it’s unlatched. It’s open, exactly a cat-sized amount.

Alec doesn’t feel like he’s ever been forbidden from this room. But it feels forbidden enough that he can’t just… walk in. He wants to knock. But with two full mugs of coffee, that isn’t really an option. So he asks, “Can I… come in?”

And when Magnus immediately says, “Of course, darling,” Alec’s feels a little… thrill.

Because this is new.

This is Magnus’s work. Alec is acutely aware of how _important_ Magnus’s work is to him. And this is where it happens (when he works at home, anyway). This is private. It’s oddly… personal. Which is strange, since it’s business. It should be the _least_ personal part of the loft. Alec has literally seen glimpses of Magnus’s underwear drawer, but somehow this feels more invasive.

At least he’s bringing coffee.

Oh.

Alec’s struck with the sudden worry that he’s not supposed to have coffee in here.

Fuck.

Well, only one way to find out. He carefully nudges the door open-

Wh-

Whoa.

There’s…

Alec blinks.

There are about a _hundred_ things happening that he needs to react to. All at once. He looks around, and it’s like every single inch of the room has something for him to process.

It’s… it’s definitely a library. There are shelves everywhere. Covering all four walls, floor to ceiling. There’s a small-ish window on one side, and a few feet of empty space on the opposite wall, but apart from that, _everything_ is bookshelves. And while it looks like a lot of the shelves are actually holding books, there’s a lot of other… stuff, too. Some of it looks innocuous enough, little knick-knacks, stacks of loose papers, that kind of thing. But some of it isn’t exactly what Alec expects to see on a bookshelf. There’s definitely something that looks a lot like a mini-fridge on one shelf in the corner. It’s a weird mismatch of items. Everywhere. On every surface.

Apart from the shelves (and the small museum’s-worth of items contained on the shelves), the only other thing in here is a _massive_ wooden table, right in the middle of the room.

And it’s absolutely covered in stuff. Just… stuff. In one quick glance, Alec sees a small birdcage, an old stereo, a stack of graph paper, and about a dozen unwrapped teabags.

It’s too much. There’s too much going on. Too much for him to see. It’s dizzying. He looks at Magnus, hoping he’ll be at least somewhat grounding in all this chaos-

Nope.

There’s about a dozen things going on with Magnus, too.

Every single detail about him right now is a… a _thing._ A surprising thing. A thing Alec wants to point out.

He’s sitting at the table, typing away on a laptop with truly impressive speed. There’s some sort of giant, ancient-looking book lying open next to the laptop, and Magnus occasionally glances over to it, like he’s referencing something. And on the other side of the laptop, there’s, what, a miniature… cauldron? It’s only a little bit bigger than the coffee mugs Alec’s holding, but there’s definitely not coffee in it. It’s… bubbling. Smoking. Possibly glowing a bit? There’s a little hint of blue around the edges, like Magnus is doing some sort of magic with it, even though he doesn’t seem to be giving it any attention.

His hair is pulled back from his face with a scrunchie. A bright pink _scrunchie._ Alec hasn’t seen anything like it since Izzy was a kid. He’s wearing a pink tank top to match (which is just _not fair._ It’s too early in the morning for Alec to be emotionally prepared to deal with this much of Magnus’s chest and arms), and gray sweatpants…

Sweatpants…

Those-

Wait.

What?

Those are… those are _Alec’s_ sweatpants.

Alec blinks. Hard. Squeezes his eyes shut. Because this can’t be… right. He keeps blinking.

But they’re still his sweatpants. No matter how many times he blinks, they’re still his sweatpants. The faded gray that used to be black. The horizontal tear in the left leg where Izzy caught him with her whip during training three years ago. The overall shapelessness of them. The overall… shittiness of them.

Is Magnus drunk? Did he somehow lose his eyesight between the time he got out of bed and the time he got dressed? What’s happening?

Alec opens his mouth to say… something. Make sure Magnus is okay. Make sure he realizes that he’s wearing garbage pants.

But his brain switches gears before he can speak. Because there’s one other weird thing happening with Magnus. And apparently it’s easier for him to process than the sweatpants, because it’s the first thing his mind actually latches on to, in this whole room full of… things.

“You smoke?”

Magnus hums noncommittally around the cigarette between his lips. “Not often. But, old habits, as they say.” The cigarette muffles his words, so he takes it out and holds it between two fingers instead (and he’s somehow _still_ able to type faster than Alec’s ever seen). “You spend a few hundred years where smoking is highly fashionable, and the next thing you know…” He chuckles, and looks up at Alec with a wry little smile. “Apparently, they’re rather addictive.” He looks back down at the book, then the laptop screen. He furrows his eyebrows, and deletes something. “It’s hardly _my_ fault that they’re bad for you, all of a sudden.”

Alec smiles. “I’m pretty sure they’ve _always_ been bad for you, Mags.”

Magnus scoffs. “Four hundred years, and I’m still breathing just fine.” He types something else, and turns to a different page in the book. And he smirks. “Warlocks have always been more _resilient_ with things like that. I’ve never even caught a cold.” He flips a few more pages. “But when I found out smoke is bad for cats, obviously I had to make… adjustments.” He taps his cigarette against the table-

And it makes a weird noise. A loud, solid _clack_ sound. It’s-

Oh. It’s fake. Electronic.

Magnus raises it to his lips and inhales, and yeah, the tip of it lights up. Like a switch being flicked, not like a burning glow. It’s an actual light. A blue light.

Alec thinks that’s kinda fitting.

He’s also a little… relieved? It may be a selfish thought, but he wasn’t exactly looking forward to kissing Magnus with cigarette breath. Alec’s never smoked. He doesn’t think he’d do well with the flavor of tobacco.

Alec realizes very abruptly that he’s still hovering in the doorway. Just standing on the threshold, carefully balancing two mugs of coffee-

Oh.

Right.

“Here,” Alec finally steps into the room. “I hope you don’t mind, I just… made some coffee.” He tries to sound casual about it, tries to hide how awkward he feels (and how embarrassed he feels that he feels awkward about something like _coffee_ in the first place). He finds an empty spot on the table and sets down Magnus’s mug, right next to that mini-cauldron thing.

Magnus looks at the mug. And blinks. Like he’s not sure what he’s looking at. Like his brain is still focused on whatever’s happening on his laptop, and he’s struggling to focus on this new thing.

But after a moment, he smiles.

And he looks up at Alec. “Thank you, darling.”

Alec’s stomach twists, and he lets himself believe that it’s just because he hasn’t had breakfast yet.

“I’ll, ah. I’ll just-” Alec’s free hand scratches at the back of his neck. “I’ll let you… I’ll get out of your way.” He backs up toward the door, and makes a dumb, vague gesture at all the stuff spread out on the table.

“No, nonono,” Magnus says lightly. Almost eagerly. “I’m almost done. Don’t worry.”

Alec takes another step away. “I don’t wanna… distract you, or anything.”

“You won’t. This isn’t exactly life-or-death work. It’s just scheduling. Answering a few emails.” He looks at Alec. Smiles again, softer this time. “Please stay. I’d like the company.”

Alec swallows.

It’s not like he’s capable of saying no to _that._

But Alec looks around, and there’s…

Should he just… stand here? There’s clearly a lot of delicate stuff in here, so he doesn’t want to wander around and get into anything he shouldn’t… but it’s not like there’s anywhere for him to sit.

Magnus waves a hand dismissively as he takes another puff of his cigarette-

And there’s a chair behind Alec. One of the comfy armchairs from the livingroom. It just barely fits in the space between the table and the nearest bookshelf.

Alec smiles as he sits down. Settles in.

It’s… nice. Settling into a comfy chair. With a mug of hot coffee (that’s _such_ better quality than the coffee at the Institute). Still in his pajamas - or, at least, still in the boxers and t-shirt that he uses as pajamas. In this surprisingly cozy library. It’s raining, so there’s not much light coming in from the window, but somehow that just makes it… cozier. The sound of rain outside. A rainy morning, in a comfy chair, with coffee. With Magnus.

And with nothing to do.

Alec’s not used to doing nothing. But for one day, he doesn’t think it’ll be too difficult for him to adjust.

Alec sips his coffee.

Magnus clicks a few things. Types a few more. Blows a perfect smoke ring (which Alec didn’t even know was possible, since this isn’t technically _smoke_ ).

He absently reaches over - his focus still entirely on his laptop - and picks up the little bubbling cauldron, bringing it up toward his mouth-

He pauses, with the rim of cauldron almost touching his lip. And then he calmly sets it back down. And picks up his coffee mug instead.

Alec hides a smile in his own mug. He watches Magnus keep working, and only feels a _little_ voyeuristic about it. He thinks he’d normally feel a little guiltier about staring at him like this, it’s just…

The image is too unusual. It shouldn’t be, but it is. He’s never seen Magnus use a computer before. He didn’t even known Magnus owned a laptop until now. It’s not like Alec had any reason to believe he _wouldn’t_ have one. He certainly doesn’t shy away from any other type of technology. But in this… context. It’s strange in this context. Alec’s never seen him use technology for work before. He’s never seen him sit in a big, magic-filled library… and have all his focus be on this tiny little laptop. It’s so small. Ordinary.

“You really schedule stuff by email?”

Alec’s already asked it by the time he realizes how stupid it sounds. It’s too late. He can’t un-ask it. So he just takes another sip of coffee, to keep himself from asking any more stupid questions.

Magnus’s face twists up with amusement. “Yes?” His tone doesn’t quite indicate that he thinks the question is ‘stupid’, but definitely that he thinks the answer should be obvious.

Alec rolls his eyes at his own dumb mouth. “I mean, it’s just… I didn’t…” he sighs, with only _mild_ frustration at himself. “I guess I’ve never… thought of it. Like that. Getting a work email from a High Warlock.” Just saying it outloud makes him smile a bit, at how unexpected the idea is. “Getting an email confirmation for your demon summoning. It’s so-” his mouth moves a few times, but all that comes out is breath. “It’s… normal? Like… like it’s just _mundane_ business stuff.” He can’t imagine getting an _email_ from the High Warlock of Brooklyn. What would it look like? What would the subject line be?

By the Angel, what’s Magnus’s email address? Does it say ‘warlock’ in it somewhere? Is it a pun?

It’s probably a pun.

Magnus is smirking at his laptop screen. “Alexander, I have _all_ the ‘mundane business stuff’. I have emails, a PO box, invoices. I even have business cards.”

Alec laughs, and he’s not even sure why. It shouldn’t be funny. “Do they have glitter on them?”

Magnus glances at him out of the corner of his eye. “Only the _fancy_ ones.”

Alec just laughs harder. Because he said it like a joke. But Alec would bet anything that it’s true. Of course Magnus has glittery business cards. Of _course_ he does. Glittery, High Warlock business cards. With his email address on them.

Magnus laughs a little bit as he goes back to his work. But he’s not laughing like he thinks it’s funny. He’s laughing like he thinks it’s funny that _Alec_ thinks it’s funny. Or… maybe more like he thinks it’s… silly? Cute? Whatever it is, he’s laughing at Alec. But in a very fond way. So Alec certainly doesn’t mind.

It gets quiet after that.

There’s just the sound of the rain. Magnus typing. Alec sipping his coffee (why is it always so goddamn _loud_ when he drinks things?).

It’s peaceful.

Alec still gets a little uncomfortable when there’s too much silence between them. It’s not horrible - certainly nowhere near as bad as it used to be - but it’s still there. That little voice in the back of his mind that tells him that there _shouldn’t_ ever be silence between them. That they should be able to talk to each other, constantly, without lulls or breaks. That if there’s silence in a conversation, it means that they’ve run out of things to say. And that’s bad. For some reason.

Alec _knows_ it isn’t actually bad. He knows they can talk or not talk as much as they goddamn please, and it doesn’t mean anything deeper than that. Because they do talk. They talk _a lot._ Alec is comfortable talking with Magnus. Always. That’s an achievement in and of itself, for Alec. So he knows that silence is alright. Conversation doesn’t have to be constant. He knows that. He _knows_ that.

But it’s not like rational knowledge has ever prevented him from being a paranoid idiot before. It’s certainly not going to start now.

Except, right now…

He doesn’t feel it. They aren’t saying anything. There’s just pleasant background noises. Second after second. Probably minute after minute? Enough time for Alec to get through his coffee.

And he doesn’t feel strange. Not at all.

Because he knows they could be talking, if they wanted to. He knows it’s not that they have nothing to say to each other. They’re just being quiet right now. Because they want to. They’re choosing not to talk. They don’t _need_ to be talking.

And it’s weirdly comforting. Knowing that they can do that.

Alec finishes off his coffee quickly, before the last little bit has the chance to get cold. Magnus is still typing.

And they’re still not talking.

And it’s still nice.

Alec tucks his feet under his legs, folding himself up in the chair. Getting even cozier. He holds his empty mug between his hands, savoring the residual heat as it fades into his palms.

He looks around. After all, he doesn’t have anything better to be doing.

It still feels a little… strange, to be snooping around Magnus’s library like this. Even though it’s literally just _looking._ And from a pretty disadvantaged angle, no less. He’s right next to Magnus, but that means he’s pretty far away from everything else. He can’t read the spines of most of the books, or tell what’s in any of the dozens of glass bottles on that one particularly high shelf, or read the fancy text on the collection of papers hung up on the one shelf-less wall behind Magnus…

But… wait.

Maybe he can? He squints a bit-

Oh. It’s not that he can’t read them because they’re too far away.

He can’t read them because most of them aren’t in English. There are probably a dozen different frames up there, and only… two… three of them are in English. He sees another two that are Spanish, one that might be… French? Probably? Maybe German? And at least four are in languages with completely different scripts and alphabets, so Alec doesn’t have a fucking clue. But they all have a vaguely similar format. And they’re all hung next to each other, not in neat little rows, but a more artistic display. All these fancy documents, in their simple frames, in their different languages, and-

By the Angel.

Alec catches a few words he understands. Sees Magnus’s name, over and over again. And he suddenly recognizes the particular format.

They’re diplomas.

They’re… they’re _all_ diplomas.

Alec’s face constricts a bit. Because this… this is just-

Holy _fuck._

There’s a dozen diplomas on this wall. In half a dozen languages. All with Magnus’s name. A _dozen-_

And really, who’s to say it’s just these? They’re in a nice, aesthetically pleasing formation, and they take up exactly as much space as is available on the wall. So these might just be the only ones Magnus could fit here. Like he had to pick and choose his favorites.

Alec’s stomach drops.

Magnus’s _favorite_ college degrees. Just the best dozen of them.

It’s not just the languages that vary. It looks like it’s the ages too. Some of them are new and pristine, but some of them actually look old. Well-preserved, but still. Old.

Alec isn’t… surprised. He shouldn’t be, anyway. With how rich Magnus is, and how much time Magnus has had, and how _smart_ Magnus is… it’s really not surprising. Four hundred years is plenty of time to go to as many damn colleges as he pleases-

Depending on how long colleges have been around, Alec supposes (and that’s something else he’ll have to add to his list of ‘Things he never realized haven’t _always_ existed until he met Magnus’). He’s had plenty of opportunity. Alec’s just never…

Thought of it. Before.

He grips his empty mug a little tighter. It’s cold now.

Something’s not… right. In his stomach. And it’s not just because he needs breakfast. It’s something different.

He looks at the diplomas. At the literal _wall_ of accomplishments. Knowledge. Experience. Alec’s never seen something as blatantly impressive as this. He’s never…

He’s never felt like this, looking at something of Magnus’s.

He’s never been jealous of Magnus before.

It’d be downright stupid of him. He knows that. It’s not like he’s ever been jealous of anything else about Magnus. Alec’s not really the jealous type, after all. It doesn’t make sense. Everything Magnus has is just… a part of him. It doesn’t make sense for Alec to want something that’s not achievable. Something that’s impossible for him to be.

But something like this…

Something simple. Something normal.

Something Alec… could have had.

He’s never specifically thought about it like this. But now, seeing this, seeing _proof_ of Magnus’s intelligence, proof of everything he’s learned. Everything he’s gotten to learn.

Magnus could have a hundred college degrees, for all Alec knows.

And Alec doesn’t even have one.

Alec knows-

He knows he’s not stupid. He’s had a basic education. School was always easy for him. He’s… yeah. He’s smart. But…

He knows damn well that an average nephilim education is _severely_ lacking. It’s practical. It’s necessary. There’s nothing beyond what needs to be done. There’s no education for education’s sake. Alec’s been trained and educated with the assumption that he’d eventually end up running the Institute. Alec knows what he needs to know to fulfill that role. He knows what he _needs_ to know. Nothing else. Nothing more.

And now, he’s staring at this… wall. This _collection_ of knowledge that Magnus will always have, and Alec never will.

Fuck.

As if Alec weren’t _already_ so goddamn unworthy of someone like Magnus Bane. He’s always known that. He’s always been inadequate. He knows he’s never been good enough for him.

And now he has to know that he’s not smart enough for him either.

Alec’s never been jealous of Magnus before.

He doesn’t like it.

He needs to…

He needs to think about something else.

He looks away from the wall. Magnus is still typing. Alec glances around the room for a moment-

But he stops. Because he doesn’t know what else he might find to make him feel like shit about himself.

He looks down instead. At his own lap. At the empty mug in his hands.

Mug. Coffee.

Yeah. That’s something.

Alec may be a moron, but at least he can make good coffee.

“Do you, ah. Do you need a refill?”

Magnus smirks at his laptop. “I was going to ask you the same thing.” One of his hands is hovering over his coffee mug, and he sort of _swishes_ it a bit-

And steam comes up through his fingers.

Oh.

“That’s convenient,” Alec says, not bothering to hide how impressed he is, even by something so simple.

Magnus hums. “It is indeed.” He nods once in Alec’s direction, without taking his eyes away from the screen.

Alec’s hands heat up.

He looks down. His mug is filling up with coffee.

It’s…

Alec laughs.

Is it funny? He doesn’t think it’s funny. But he’s laughing anyway. He watches the mug just… fill. Slowly. Steadily. Not pouring in from any source, just gradually rising on its own. It stops about an inch below the rim, so it won’t spill. Alec doesn’t know why he laughed. It’s not funny. It’s fascinating.

And yeah, really damn convenient. Now he doesn’t have to leave his comfy chair.

“Thanks.”

Magnus gives a little half-smile. “You’re welcome, darling.”

They both go to drink from their refilled mugs at the same time.

Alec smiles, and tries not to laugh into his coffee.

Magnus hits the keyboard with a bit more finality. Like he just hit ‘send’ on something, or closed it. And he leans back a bit in his chair. Gives his focus to his coffee, and his cigarette.

Well, great. _Now_ it seems like they should be talking. Now that there’s nothing else going on.

Shit.

What can he talk about? What does he have ready to go to start a conversation? What could-

Oh.

Right.

It pops into his brain so _vividly_ that it’s like he’s been slapped upside the head with it.

He’s been meaning to say it for over a full day now. He went so far as to pick up his phone to call Magnus about it yesterday. But he figured it was better to talk about something like this in person. But it’s been… it’s been _very_ much on his mind. He can’t believe he forgot about it all this morning.

On the bright side, he’s been thinking about it so intently that he’s rehearsed exactly what he wants to say.

“So I- ah.” He presses his lips together. “I had a talk with my mom yesterday.”

Magnus scoffs. Or maybe it’s supposed to be a laugh? “That must have been _oodles_ of fun for you.” He takes a long drink of coffee.

“Yeah, it was great,” Alec says with the most _pleasant_ -sounding sarcasm he can muster. He adjusts his grip on his mug, just for something to do with his hands. “She, um. She explained why I shouldn’t date you.”

Magnus seems surprisingly unfazed by this, because he tips his head back, smirking. “And which was her _main_ concern: the magic, or the penis?”

Alec chokes.

And he wasn’t even taking a drink.

“No there w- Neither. Or, both? She-” his throat gives out, and he has to stop for a moment to breathe. “It was, it was… you. Specifically.”

Magnus’s eyebrows furrow. His thumb runs slowly across the lip of his mug. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Alec looks down. He may know how he wants to say this, but doesn’t know how to say this with Magnus _watching_ him. “She told me about how they… met you. The first time.” He takes another breath. “When they were in the Circle.”

He hears Magnus sigh heavily. “Yes. That was certainly… an experience.”

“I didn’t know you knew them. Back then. I knew they _knew_ you. Who you were. But not… like that.”

Magnus laughs bitterly. “I think ‘knew’ might be a bit too _strong_ of a word for this.”

Alec looks up at him.

“We met. We… interacted.” Magnus raises his cigarette to his lips. “That’s all. It’s not as though we’ve been sending each other Christmas cards since then.”

Alec nods. “Yeah, she said… Sh-she said it wasn’t very…” all of his rehearsed words disappear, “good.”

Magnus hums, long and low. “Not particularly, no.” He raises an eyebrow. “But I fail to see how that particular story translates to a reason to dislike _me._ I was perfectly blameless.”

So he-

Alec smiles.

He doesn’t remember.

Alec didn’t really think he _would,_ but still. He was kinda hoping it would work out like this.

“Are you sure?” Alec tries to keep his voice light. But it doesn’t really work. He’s not good at being… playful. “Because she told me that you said some _very_ rude things. And not just about her.” Alec is trying his damndest to keep himself from smiling. It’s not working.

And Magnus still hasn’t caught on. He looks confused. Like he’s trying to figure out the end of this story (even though it’s about him).

“She said that she mentioned having a kid, and _you_ called her kid-”

“Oh _god._ ”

Magnus’s eyes go wide. Comically wide. Like a cartoon.

Alec can’t help himself. He bursts out laughing. He’s never seen Magnus make a face this stupid.

Magnus puts a hand to his mouth, smushing his cigarette against his cheek. With his eyes still wider than Alec’s ever seen them. “That was you. That was _you!_ You’re Maryse Lightwood’s stupid baby, that was-”

He looks at Alec.

Which just makes Alec laugh harder.

Magnus straightens in his chair. Pulls his shoulders back. Gathers a much dignity as he can. And his eyes finally go back to a normal size. “Well. Lesson learned. Don’t insult random infants, because you never know who they’ll grow up to be.”

“Yeah, I don’t think most people need to be specifically told not to insult _babies,_ Magnus.”

Magnus sniffs. “I stand by what I said.”

“Mags!”

“What?” Magnus raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t know you back then. You might have been _awful._ ” His voice is light, but it doesn’t sound like he’s kidding. “The only child of Maryse and Robert Lightwood? Eugh. I can’t even imagine.”

“I was like, a  _year_ old!” Alec sputters out between a few more laughs.

“Exactly. That young, with Robert and Maryse as your parents? There’s basically no chance that you _weren’t_ a horrible little goblin.”

“‘Repellent brat’,” Alec says as sternly as possible. “She’s very positive that those were your _exact_ words.”

Magnus rolls his eyes. “Oh, of course she remembers the exact words. She and Robert were participating in a would-be _genocide,_ but god forbid someone say something mildly unpleasant about her dumb baby.”

“Hey!” Alec tries to look offended, but for whatever reason, he can’t get himself to stop smiling. “That's _me_ you’re talking shit about.”

Magnus hums, with his cigarette between his lips. He breathes in, and exhales it through his nose. He’s smiling a bit, too. “Of course, darling. Can you forgive me?”

“Are you apologizing?” It doesn’t really sound like he’s apologizing.

Magnus is silent for a moment, tapping a finger against his mug, clearly considering his answer.

“I apologize to you, for judging you so harshly. That was perhaps a _bit_ unfair of me.” He smirks. “But I do _not_ apologize to Maryse for pissing her off.”

He scoots his chair a little, angling it toward Alec. And he stretches out his legs, so his feet brush the bottom of Alec’s chair. It feels… warm, somehow.

“But you can _never_ tell Maryse that I apologized. As far as she’s concerned, I maintain that _all_ of her offspring are as repellent as ever.” He winks.

And Alec laughs. “Fine. That’s reasonable.”

He looks down at his coffee…

And he can see Magnus’s bare feet, resting by his chair.

It takes a few moments.

But eventually, Alec gets the idea. He untucks one of his legs from under himself. And he carefully lowers his foot back down to the floor.

So his foot touches Magnus’s.

He hears Magnus hum, just a little. And after a few seconds, Magnus moves his feet, so his are resting gently on top of Alec’s.

It’s… stupid. It’s silly.

It’s nice.

Which is a relief, because the conversation isn’t over. Just the fun part of it is. Now, he has to get to the actual point. The thing that’s been clawing at his brain since yesterday morning. He doesn’t want to bring it up. It’s such a nice moment. And he’s going to ruin it. It’s a nice moment. A nice morning.

But he needs to know.

“Did my parents try to kill you?”

His voice is quiet. His eyes are still locked on their feet. His hand is starting to shake.

Everything is still for a moment. The rain seems unreasonably loud.

“Yes.”

Magnus says it plainly. Flatly. Maybe… like he’s trying to be gentle about it.

But it still sucks all the air out of Alec’s lungs.

So… okay. That’s that.

Now he knows.

As soon as Maryse said that they met him back then, Alec… knew. In a way. It was obvious. But still. He needed to know for sure. He knew his parents would never actually say it. Not like that.

Alec needed to hear it from Magnus.

It’s…

Alec tries to breathe.

He knew what the Circle did. He knew his parents were part of that.

He knew…

He knows they killed downworlders. Hell, he’s seen the proof. There are still some _pieces_ of it. In the Institute. It’s all under the guise of ‘history’, of relics, of education, of… decoration.

They’re trophies.

There aren’t many left. It’s no longer considered ‘polite’ for nephilim to keep _tokens_ of downworlders anymore. Most of it has been cleared out.

But Alec’s still seen it. In the Institute. In his own goddamn home. Where he grew up. Fangs from vampires. Werewolf claws.

Warlock marks.

He knows his parents were a part of that. He’s known his parents were in the Circle for months now. And he’s known that they _approved_ of the Circle’s treatment of downworlders for- fuck. For his entire life.

But this is…

It’s different.

Knowing that his parents killed downworlders, just hearing that exact phrase, it’s almost like it's vague. It’s too broad. It’s such a _big_ concept that Alec couldn’t (or maybe wouldn’t?) comprehend what it really means.

And now, hearing that his parents tried…

His parents tried to kill Magnus.

It’s not a big concept anymore. It’s not vague. It’s not possible to brush aside.

His parents tried to _kill_ Magnus. Specifically. Not as an idea. Not as some broader belief. It’s not that they passively wanted Magnus’s kind dead. They actually tried to kill him.

Alec can’t…

It’s like his brain can’t process it. Because it’s too fucked up. It’s so _impossibly_ fucked up that Alec doesn’t know what to do with it. His brain is refusing to believe that something so fucked up could possibly be true.

It’s not something that anyone should have to… understand.

It’s not something that anyone should know.

Magnus shouldn’t have to know that his boyfriend’s parents tried to kill him. He shouldn’t have to-

“So, how-” Alec’s throat is dry. He’s gripping his mug so tight that the heat of it is starting to hurt his hand. “Why did- how…”

He lets himself trail off. Doesn’t bother trying to finish. Because this isn’t the right question. This isn’t what he should be asking in a situation like this.

Not that he has any idea what the fuck he _should_ be doing in a situation like this. But he at least knows that the right answer isn’t to ask Magnus a question this… selfish. Alec’s not the important one right now. This has nothing to do with him. The least he can do is not try to make this about him.

But this is Magnus. So he heard the rest of Alec’s question, without actually needing to hear Alec say it.

“How did I ever let myself fall for you, knowing what your parents did?”

Fuck.

Just hearing it makes Alec’s stomach churn with guilt. _Fuck._ Magnus is talking about people trying to _kill_ him, and all Alec can do is figure out how it affects _him._

He keeps his eyes down. Keeps his focus on his coffee, for lack of a better option. It’s not like there’s any point in backing out now. It’s already out there. “Yeah.”

Magnus moves his foot, gently rubbing it against Alec’s. “I don’t know if you remember, darling, but I didn’t exactly ask for identification before I saw your face.”

Alec looks up. Eyebrows furrowed. Lips tight. Because Magnus sounds… silly. Teasing. It’s clearly sarcastic, but still. It’s enough to be surprising.

Magnus is smirking. “Who knows? Maybe if I’d known your parentage before I could get a good look at you, I would have thought better of it.” His head tilts to one side. His expression becomes lighter, somehow. Softer. “But alas, it was too late for me. I already wanted you _far_ too much to be deterred by your family history.”

Alec…

Isn’t breathing.

He needs to breathe.

His face feels like it’s ready to burst into flames. His insides are moving around, like his stomach and heart are trying to switch places.

How can Magnus just… _say_ things like that? So easily? Like…

It’s not fair. Alec sure as hell wanted Magnus from the very first moment he saw him. But it’s not like Alec would ever be able to actually admit that. In those words. So easily.

And, more than that…

Alec swallows. Shifts a little in his chair. Finally breathes.

Magnus-

Magnus really wanted him? That early? That _much?_ It’s not-

No.

That’s not the point. None of that is the point. That’s not what they’re talking about right now. It’s so blatantly not what they’re talking about that it’s… it’s like a diversion.

“That’s,” Alec looks away again. “That’s not- that _can’t_ be enough. Wh-what was it… really?”

Magnus scoffs. “Alexander, I am being _perfectly_ honest. As soon as I laid eyes on you, I was done for.” He laughs quietly.

There’s silence for a moment. But it doesn’t really sound _quiet._ It sounds like there’s something… else. Something waiting. Alec doesn’t know why, but it sounds like Magnus is just pausing.

And, sure enough, after another handful of seconds, Magnus takes an audible breath.

“I wanted you right away. But that was… simple. In that context, it didn’t _matter_ who you were. Or who your parents were.” He sighs, in a way that might sound like a laugh if it had a bit more sound. “At that point, that’s all it was. And I didn’t think it’d become more.” His voice is getting quieter. “I didn’t expect that I would ever l-like you, quite this much.”

Oh. So he…

Oh.

Alec wants to look at him. But he… can’t. It’s like he suddenly needs _courage_ just to make eye contact with his own boyfriend. And he doesn’t have any.

But that’s so…

It takes a few moments, but Alec manages to look up-

And Magnus is smiling at him. That soft, subtle smile of his.

Alec feels warm. And weak.

But it doesn’t last long. Magnus’s smile disappears, way sooner than Alec had hoped for. “However, when I realized that things might not be as _simple_ as I’d originally anticipated, that wasn’t suddenly a free pass for you. After all, there are _reasons_ why I’ve never been with a shadowhunter before. I have rules about that sort of thing.”

Alec scoffs. “And you thought _I_ was worth breaking those rules? That doesn’t-”

He stops himself as soon as realizes that he’s actually talking out loud. He manages to smother the rest of the words with a weird, embarrassingly high-pitched sound.

For some reason, Magnus is smiling again. But it’s more… Alec doesn’t know. There’s something different about it. Something new. “I’ve always made a point of judging people only on themselves, not the people around them. _Particularly_ not their parents,” he says, his voice sharp. Harsh, even. “I’m sure it goes without saying that if you’d ever expressed any of the same beliefs as Robert and Maryse, things between us would have ended before they began.”

So, that’s…

Yeah. It makes sense. It makes so much sense that it’s weirdly _obvious._ Magnus is smart. Magnus is intuitive. Magnus is good at reading people. And Magnus has had hundreds of years of experience dealing with people like the Circle. People like Robert and Maryse. By now, he’s probably able to spot them a mile away. And it’s not like Magnus would ever… settle. Put up with something he doesn’t like. If Alec ever _did_ act like his parents, he knows damn well that Magnus would be done.

That’s almost… it’s not _nice,_ but it’s, something. It’s definitely _something_ to know that Magnus doesn’t see any of Robert and Maryse in him. It’s not like Alec’s ever thought he could be mistaken for a Circle member or anything, but he knows he still…

He still fucks up. Magnus still has to point out when he fucks up. But Alec _knows_ that, and he tries. He’s been trying as hard as he can, and now-

Well. Apparently it’s enough. Enough for Magnus trust him. Enough for Magnus to know that he’s the child of people who tried to kill him, and still want him, despite that.

Alec’s not good enough for Magnus. But this is at least something. Alec’s at least doing _something_ right.

“That being said, darling,” Magnus says wryly, “I hope you understand that if you ever try to kill me, I _will_ dump you.”

Alec chokes on a weak laugh. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Magnus laughs with him. It ends with a long, deep sigh. “I can’t believe that was _you._ ” He shakes his head. “I must say, I’m a bit disappointed in myself. ‘Repellant brat’?” He scoffs. “I can do _much_ better. If-”

His laptop makes a noise. A little ding.

“Mm, excuse me a moment, angel,” Magnus says absently, already turning his chair back toward the table, already giving this his full attention.

Alec’s almost relieved, honestly. He knew the conversation was necessary, but it’s not like it was very enjoyable (for either of them, but particularly for Magnus). Especially not on such a nice, lazy morning. And besides, Alec doesn’t know what else to say. He heard what he needed to hear. He knows what he needs to know. So unless Magnus has something else to say, Alec would _very_ much like to leave this where it is, and talk about something else.

Oh. Something else.

Fuck.

Alec doesn’t need to worry about this. He knows he doesn’t. Conversation is easy for them. It always has been. He doesn’t need to worry about it. So as he watches Magnus click away on his laptop and chug the rest of his coffee (and, by the Angel, how is that not burning the shit out of his throat?), he knows he doesn’t need to think of something else to say. He knows he doesn’t. He _knows_ he doesn’t.

Magnus sets down his mug, pushes the laptop away an inch or two, and turns back to Alec.

“Why don’t warlocks have middle names?”

Magnus opens his mouth, then closes it again. “Pardon?”

_Fuck._

Alec’s fucking goddamn _stupid_ brain. Spewing out the first piece of bullshit he can come up with. Just so there won’t be a lull in the conversation. Even though he knows there wouldn’t have been one anyway.

Fucking idiot.

Although… the reason it was the first thing he thought of is because he _has_ actually been wondering about it. For a few weeks now. But not in a real way. Just basic, absent curiosity. It’s not like he was planning on actually asking about it.

Until today, apparently. Apparently today is the _perfect_ time for Alec’s brain to make him ask that goddamn idiotic question.

“I was- it was just-” Alec makes a few dumb noises - just his luck. He looks down. Tucks his elbows close to his sides. Does his best to dissolve into the upholstery. “I was just curious. But, ah. Forget it. It’s… nothing.”

“Hm.” Magnus taps his cigarette on the desk in an intricate rhythm. “I don’t think I’ve ever considered that before.”

Alec rubs the back of his neck. Magnus doesn’t sound annoyed or offended, so that’s good. “It’s not important. I w-was just… wondering. I thought maybe, there was a reason? Y’know, with the whole naming… tradition.”

“Well, it’s not as though I had a hand in deciding the particulars of the tradition. No one’s ever asked my personal opinion on middle names.”

“Right, yeah. I- that’s…” Alec grits his teeth at the unbearably stupid sound of his voice. “It was a dumb question.”

Magnus hums in contemplation. He looks oddly amused. “It’s not dumb at all, darling. Unexpected, yes. But not dumb.” He tilts his head, smiling. “Now that I think about it, there’s certainly not anything _stopping_ me from choosing a middle name for myself.” He chuckles. “Do you think I should? I’d be open to suggestions. Though, honestly, I’ve always thought ‘Magnus Bane’ has such a nice ring to it. I can’t imagine breaking it up with another name.” He leans back lazily, crossing his ankles in front of him. His voice is still light, like there’s a bit of laughter in it. “I feel like any other name would inherently lack the proper _weight._ So many names would sound downright silly in comparison. Something like… Roger. Jim.”

Alec snorts out a stupid chuckle. “Carl.”

Magnus-

He laughs.

He like… _really_ laughs. His head tips back. His shoulders shake. He presses a hand to his mouth, but it doesn’t do anything to mute the sound. It’s loud. It’s _loud._

Alec doesn’t think he’s ever seen Magnus laugh this hard. And it’s… because of Alec?

It doesn’t make sense.

But it’s nice.

“Th- wh…” Magnus tries to speak, but he can’t. He’s laughing too hard. He’s literally laughing so hard that he can’t even _talk._

Alec doesn’t realize that he’s laughing too until it starts to hurt his stomach.

Magnus finally gets himself a little bit under control. “Yes, _perfect,_ ” he says, garbled with giggles. “The High Warlock of Brooklyn: Magnus Carl Bane.” He immediately dissolves into laughter again, so strong that he-

He snorts.

He actually _snorts_ with laughter.

And it does something weird to Alec’s chest. Something warm, and happy, and…

It takes a minute or two for them both to calm down. Magnus is still giggling. It’s hard for Alec to breathe. By the Angel, it’s nice.

“But to give you a _real_ answer,” Magnus says eventually, like this is somehow still a valid conversation, “I am sure that there _are_ warlocks who choose a middle name. Just as I am sure that there are warlocks who choose surnames with multiple syllables. And warlocks who choose to keep the name their human parents gave them.” He shrugs. “The way we choose our names is a tradition. And all traditions are broken at some point.”

That’s…

That’s a different answer than Alec was expecting. It makes sense, and it’s not surprising, but still.

Alec always forgets that. He knows that Magnus wasn’t always ‘Magnus’, but he doesn’t really _think_ about that very often. That he was given a different name when he was born. That there was a brief span of time, centuries ago, when people looked at Magnus and called him… something else.

It’s strange. His name fits him so well that Alec can’t imagine someone seeing him and _not_ realizing that the right name for him is ‘Magnus Bane’.

But, obviously, that’s _why_ his name fits so well. Because he picked it. When he already knew himself, knew who he is. He literally chose his name _because_ he knew it was a good choice.

And then, not for the first time, Alec distantly wonders what Magnus’s name… used to be.

And, like always, it doesn’t last long. After all, it’s not like it’s important. If Magnus wanted to tell him, he would have told him. Alec knows Magnus’s real name, the name that he _wants_ to be known by. That’s all that matters.

Besides, his name is so perfect that at this point, hearing a different name would probably just sound weird. It wouldn’t be him. He’s Magnus Bane.

Magnus Carl Bane.

Alec laughs, and almost chokes on his coffee.

Magnus notices, and makes a face like he’s going to ask what Alec thinks is funny-

His laptop dings again.

“Oh _jesus,_ be quiet!” Magnus reaches over and practically slams the laptop shut without even looking at it. He puts his cigarette between his lips again, and mutters around it, “Can’t have a moment’s peace, even on my day off.”

“Do you even _get_ days off?”

Magnus slowly exhales a smoke ring, then smirks. “I get whatever I want.”

Alec chuckles, even though he knows that sure as fuck isn’t true. Well, about the days off, anyway. Magnus doesn’t take days off. Alec is _well_ aware of that by now. When he wants time off, he just does some creative scheduling. If he wants an evening free, he schedules everything early in the morning. Or makes sure he takes jobs where he can work from home, things he can do on his own over longer periods of time (which, now that Alec thinks about it, probably explains whatever he’s brewing in that little cauldron). He makes his job work in a way that he wants. Gives himself a long lunch ‘break’ sometimes, so he can visit Alec. Works overnight sometimes, so he can sleep all day. Schedules six appointments in one afternoon so he has the night free to throw a party. Rearranges his schedule so he can-

So he can spend the day with Alec.

That must be what he’s been doing on his laptop. Clearing his day. Giving himself a ‘day off’.

Because Alec has a ‘day off’.

Fuck.

Alec wants to say something…

But he doesn’t get the chance. Because Magnus has apparently given up on his laptop for good, and that means that his attention can be spent elsewhere.

So his attention _immediately_ goes to Alec.

He leaves everything on the table. Pushes himself away from it, like he’s putting both literal and symbolic distance between himself and his work. He stands up. Goes over to Alec. And practically crawls into his lap.

Alec’s thrown for a second. After all, it’s a decent-sized chair, but it’s not exactly big enough for both of them. He just barely has time to get both of his feet on the floor and his hands on the armrests before Magnus fucking _straddles_ him. Their legs smush together a little too snugly for the ideal level of comfort.

But with Magnus all cuddled up in his lap, it’s not like Alec’s gonna complain. Except-

Magnus apparently isn’t comfortable yet. He keeps shifting, adjusting, rearranging. Moving just enough to make Alec _very_ nervous about the mug of still-very-hot coffee he’s holding right in the path of Magnus’s restless arms.

“Mags, careful, there’s-”

Magnus drums the fingers of one hand against Alec’s chest.

And the mug disappears.

“Hey!” That wasn’t exactly what Alec meant. “I was still drinking that.”

“Oh, dear me, I must have misplaced it,” Magnus says, not even _trying_ to sound sorry. He’s still moving, like he’s just… snuggling a bit. Wiggling his legs so he can get even closer to Alec (which Alec hadn’t thought was possible). Winding his arms around Alec’s neck. Running his fingers through Alec’s hair. Scratching Alec's scalp, just a little.

It takes a truly ridiculous amount of restraint for Alec to ignore the heat that _instantly_ spreads through his veins. He fights to sound at least somewhat serious. “I’m serious.” Well, that’ll do it. “I wanted that.”

Magnus gives a sympathetic little coo. It feels like he’s somehow still managing to get even further into Alec’s space. “You can have it back in a minute.”

“Mags, I-”

Magnus kisses his cheek.

And Alec forgets every word he’s ever known.

A kiss on the cheek, that’s all it takes.

Alec should probably be embarrassed about that. But he decides it’d be significantly more enjoyable to give in. So he puts his hands on Magnus’s hips. And after taking a moment to gather his nerve, he slips them further up Magnus’s sides. Under his tank top. Magnus’s skin is soft, and warm, and-

Magnus hums happily. Nuzzles his nose gently against Alec’s cheek (though Alec imagines that’s not the best feeling, since he hasn't shaved yet). Tugs Alec’s hair a little harder. Runs his parted lips along Alec’s jaw.

Alec inhales sharply. “Mags-”

“Darling,” Magnus breathes out.

Their timing syncs up pretty perfectly after that, because Alec pushes up Magnus’s tank top far enough to run his nails over Magnus’s shoulder blades, at the _exact_ same moment that Magnus tilts his face far enough to brush his lips against Alec’s.

It’s perfect.

And it’s… new, somehow. Different.

Because Alec is pretty damn tempted to pull Magnus’s shirt off over his head. And Magnus is adjusting his legs again so he can none-too-subtly press his crotch against Alec’s. And he’s biting at Alec’s lips. And Alec is licking into his mouth (and tasting an unfamiliar sweetness, obviously not from the coffee, it’s almost… is it from the cigarette? Whatever it is, it’s good). And Magnus is moaning into his mouth.

And somehow, it’s still lazy. Just as lazy as the rest of the morning. It’s not…

It’s not going anywhere. Alec doesn’t know _how_ he knows, he just does. He can tell. It might have something to do with the fact that this chair just really isn’t big enough to allow for it, but it feels like it’s more than that. There’s a quality to it.

Laziness. It’s the only word Alec can think of. It’s lazy. Everything, from the way Magnus’s fingers are twining through Alec’s hair, to the sounds Alec isn’t bothering to hold back. Every detail of it feels lazy. Slow. Easy.

After a minute or two, Magnus breaks away from Alec’s lips. He nips Alec’s ear for a moment, then starts trailing kisses down his neck-

Or he tries to, anyway. The way they’re positioned in this goddamn chair, he can’t really stoop far enough to get at much of Alec’s throat. But he gives in gracefully, and just goes back to Alec’s ear instead.

Hell, it’s not like Alec minds.

On the contrary, he likes it enough that he slowly rakes his nails all the way down Magnus’s back, to show his appreciation.

“Ah, _Alexander,_ ” Magnus whispers. He whispers it directly into Alec’s ear, which is just… mean.

Because it immediately reroutes a good portion of Alec’s blood to his dick, and on top of that, he makes a stupid noise. A strangled whine. And even though this feels so lazy, and relaxed, and like they’re not going to go any further, Alec can’t keep himself from sliding his hands down to Magnus’s ass, trying to use that grip to pull him closer-

Oh.

There’s a… there’s a very _disorienting_ moment when Alec’s fingers touch the sweatpants. The small hole in the back of the waistband that exposes a patch of the fraying drawstrings. The texture of the fabric, worn so thin and threadbare. It’s bizarre to feel the familiarity of his own sweatpants… on someone else’s body.

It takes a second for Alec to realize that he’s frozen, with his mouth hanging open, and his hands resting on Magnus’s ass.

But Magnus doesn’t seem to mind, since he’s still licking _very_ enthusiastically along the shell of Alec’s ear.

“S’w- there’s… uh,” is all Alec can manage to choke out. Apparently, getting a lapdance doesn’t exactly make it easier for Alec to form complete sentences. “So these- ah. These pants?”

“Mmmm.” Magnus kisses Alec’s jaw. “They are _terribly_ comfortable.”

“You don’t have any comfortable pants of your own?”

That-

That was apparently the wrong thing to say. Because Magnus pulls back. His fingers go limp in Alec’s hair, and his hands slip down to Alec’s shoulders instead. He lifts up onto his knees a bit, so they’re not making such noticeable contact.

This isn’t at _all_ what Alec wanted.

Magnus looks oddly- apologetic? Why does he look apologetic? “Would you prefer I not wear them? I’m sorry, darling, I can’t believe I didn’t even _think_ to ask.”

“N-no… no,” Alec’s voice isn’t working as quickly as his brain. “That’s not what I- what. I just meant…” he rubs his hands across Magnus’s hips, hoping that’ll somehow get his point across while he tries to remember how to _talk_ like a person. “I figured you’d have comfy pants that are… nicer. Than these. These are, like. They’re shitty. They’re _really_ shitty.”

They must be on the same page again, because Magnus is smiling again. And he leans back in, like he’s trying to press a permanent imprint of Alec’s body into the cushions. “Well,” he kisses Alec’s forehead, “I’m not going to admit that I enjoy wearing them because they smell like you,” he kisses Alec’s temple, “but…” he kisses Alec’s cheek.

Alec’s stomach jumps up into his throat so suddenly, it makes him suck in a breath that sounds ridiculously close to a squeak.

But before his brain can go into overdrive about what Magnus just said, Magnus cups Alec’s face between his hands, and kisses him. So ridiculously soft. A gentle press of his lips. The smallest touch of his tongue.

And Alec’s brain shuts down completely.

He somehow manages to reciprocate, even though he doesn’t feel like he’s in control of his own body. His hands are still on Magnus’s ass, and it only takes a minute or two of this warm, easy kissing for Alec to feel the uncontrollable urge to have more. To feel Magnus’s skin against his fingertips, instead of the strange familiarity of his own pants. Hell, if Alec wants to touch his sweatpants, he can touch them whenever the fuck he wants. Right now, Magnus is right here. Right in his lap.

Right now, Alec wants to touch Magnus.

He takes a moment to fiddle with the waistband. Dipping the tips of his fingers under the fabric, almost like… teasing.

Alec’s not really sure _how_ to ‘tease' (he barely knows how to be blatantly sexual, how the fuck is he supposed to be all subtle and _clever_ about it?), but he tries his best. Rubs Magnus’s hips lightly, trying to make his intentions obvious, but not _that_ obvious.

And he thinks it probably works? Because Magnus gasps against his lips, and then- _fuck._ He sighs out, and his breath is so hot on Alec’s mouth that Alec thinks he might overheat and pass out-

Especially coupled with the _sparks_ he can feel crackling out of Magnus’s fingertips.

By the Angel, Alec _loves_ feeling Magnus’s magic. The heat sharp, but not painful. The little crack that seeps into his skin, like electricity. The obvious _power_ of it, the power it contains, the power Magnus could be using to its full capacity, but that he’s choosing to make soft instead. Gentle. Sweet. The little flashes of blue behind Alec’s eyes. The smell of burning-

Oh.

Wait. Shit.

That part’s not normal. It’s not supposed to smell like… tires. Burning rubber. Exhaust fumes.

Magnus gasps again. But this time, it’s not in a good way.

“Goddamn _fucking_ hell!” Magnus practically leaps out of Alec’s lap, tripping over his own feet and stumbling over to the table.

Because the little cauldron is on fire.

Well. Okay then.

Is Alec supposed to be worried? Is he supposed to do something? Offer to help?

Fuck. What the _fuck_ could he possibly do to help put out a magic cauldron fire?

Besides, Magnus clearly has this under control. Yeah, he looks a bit… startled. But all it takes is one snap of his fingers to make the flames disappear. And then he just sort of… hovers there. Keeps his hand over the cauldron.

The burning light dims to a gentle glow. Changing color as Magnus moves his hand, in little pulses and waves. It’s blue, then white, then a sickly green, then a sort of murky brown… then blue again.

And Magnus exhales deeply.

“Everything okay?” Alec asks as soon as things seem calm again.

Magnus chuckles. “Yes, but I’m afraid I'm going to have to put a permanent ban on canoodling around active potions.” He tilts his head. “It’s unwise to let my magic get quite so _unhinged_ in this room.”

Alec ducks his head, and tries not to smile.

‘Canoodling.’ That’s a nice word for it.

Magnus picks up the cauldron, clearly using a great deal of caution. “Just to be safe…” he mutters, probably to himself. He looks around the table. It’s not clear what he’s looking _for,_ but he doesn’t seem to find it.

Eventually, he must give up. He flicks his free hand-

And the stuff on the table goes _flying._

Well, that’s an exaggeration. It all just shifts around a bit, so all of the clutter is shoved into a pile on the end closest to Alec. And the end closest to the window is left empty.

Magnus carefully sets the cauldron down on the cleared half of the table. “There. Now, if it decides to combust, at least there’s nothing for it to burn.”

Alec sputters out a laugh. That certainly doesn’t seem like the _safest_ way to deal with flammable potions. Just isolating them, and hoping for the best. He wants to say something, make a little joke-

But something catches his attention first.

Alec couldn’t really see everything on the table before. There was too much clutter, too much happening. But now it’s a pile, and he can see that sitting on the very top of that pile is a…

Thing. It’s a… thing.

Alec’s not sure what the right name is. His first guess is that it’s a ukulele? Just a particularly fancy one, maybe? It’s an instrument, that’s the important thing.

“What’s that?” Alec’s curiosity must be stronger than his fear of sounding ignorant. Huh. That’s new.

Magnus follows the path of Alec’s gaze, then smirks. “Darling, it’s obviously not a _proper_ magical library unless there's at least one extra charango lying around.”

That… that technically answers the question, but it doesn’t tell Alec what he actually wants to know. “Do you play it?”

Magnus chuckles, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “Noooo, I very much do _not.”_ He makes his way back to Alec’s chair-

He doesn’t sit in Alec’s lap this time. Instead, he perches on the back of one of the armrests. But he leans back, and stretches his arm across the back of the chair, so it feels like his arm his around Alec’s shoulders. Yeah, it’s not quite the same as straddling Alec’s lap, but it still feels close. There’s still a bit of… snuggling to it. It’s still nice.

And it’s still comfortable enough that Alec apparently _still_ isn’t worried about asking dumb questions. “Why do you have it if you don’t play it?”

“Just because I don’t play it doesn’t mean I’ve never _tried.”_

Magnus’s voice is warm and happy, and he cozies himself in a bit more. After a moment, his hand starts fiddling a little with the sleeve of Alec’s t-shirt.

Alec tips his head back, so it’s resting against Magnus’s arm. But he doesn’t look at Magnus. He looks up at the ceiling instead, with Magnus in his periphery. “Do you play anything else?”

Magnus sighs grandly. “Alas, instruments have never been my forte.”

“Huh.” For some reason, that’s not the answer Alec was expecting. “I guess- I guess I sort of thought you’d…”

The thought is in his head, it’s just _right there,_ perfectly understandable. But he can’t fucking figure out how to articulate it in a way that someone else would understand. He squeezes his hand into a fist a few times, like he’s literally trying to grasp the right words.

“I figured you’d like… pick some instrument that’s stupidly difficult to play, and take a bunch of time to learn it perfectly. Just, y’know. Because you can.”

Magnus laughs, and angles himself toward Alec a bit further. “Yes, that _does_ sound like something I’d do.” He takes a breath, like he’s going to say something else…

But it must not be enough, because he lets it out. And then takes another. Deeper this time. “However, that… concept is familiar. But it was Ragnor who did it, not me. Master a difficult instrument, just for the bragging rights.”

“Really?” That _definitely_ doesn’t match up with the sort of ‘image’ of Ragnor that Alec’s created. “Which instrument?” He could maybe picture him playing something stuffy and classical. Like a harpsichord.

“The banjo.”

That's-

No.

“No,” Alec says with a startled little laugh. “No, no way. I’m calling bullshit.”

Magnus gives a horrifically offended scoff. “Alexander, I would _never_ tell you something that isn’t true.”

“Ha!” Alec sits up straighter, tucking one of his legs under himself again so he can face Magnus directly. “Really? ‘Cause on our first date, you told me you invented the saxophone.”

Magnus’s mouth moves, like he’s fighting back a smile. “And? You have no proof that I didn't.”

“Okay, you may have been able to pull shit like that a hundred years ago, but _google_ exists now.” He nudges his shoulder against Magnus’s arm. “You can’t blatantly lie to your dates and get away with it anymore.”

Magnus sniffs delicately. “Fine. I told you _one_ tiny little fib, but that-”

“What about when you said Shakespeare wrote all those sonnets about you?”

Magnus opens his mouth-

“ _Or_ when you said you knew Cleopatra?” Alec’s struggling to keep laughter out of his voice (since it’s severely undermining his righteous indignation), and he knows his smile must look pretty stupid too. But he can’t help it. He _never_ gets one up on Magnus like this. “Or how about that sword? The one you said was given to you by Alexander the Great? Catarina told me you bought that _last year._ Or wh-”

“Alright!” Magnus holds up his hands in surrender. He looks like he might actually be slightly repentant. Or at least, embarrassed? Definitely offended that he’s being called out like this. But it doesn’t last long, because he puts on a _very_ serious face, points at Alec, and drops his voice. “But, on my life, Ragnor played the goddamn banjo. _Beautifully._ He could have made a wonderful career out of it.”

Alec’s pretty sure he shouldn’t laugh - especially because with Magnus’s finger under his nose like this, it kinda feels like he’s being scolded - but he can’t stop. It’s just too unexpected. With everything else he’s heard about Ragnor, it doesn’t make any sense. He’s been given a new piece of information that he can’t reconcile with any of the other pieces.

Also, he’s not sure…

He’s not sure Magnus has ever talked about Ragnor this much. Not that this is really ‘much’ - it’s just one little detail. But still. He usually doesn’t say anything. Alec likes… he likes getting to hear it. Likes that Magnus wants to tell him a silly little fact. It feels like he’s being… trusted with something.

So he keeps trying. “Why’d he pick the banjo?”

“He didn’t. I did.” Magnus shrugs. And he’s got that smug little smile that he always uses when he’s _pretending_ to be sorry about something. “I thought it would be funny. So I bet him a rather egregious amount of money that he _couldn’t_ learn it. Although I’m fairly certain he would have done it just for the satisfaction of proving me wrong.”

Okay. That fits _significantly_ better into Alec’s idea of Ragnor. And Magnus, for that matter. Now it makes sense. “So, what, did he just… learn a really hard song to play for you? Just to win the bet?”

“Hmmmm,” Magnus’s head tips back a bit. And he rolls his eyes fondly. “That’s how it started, but he ended up enjoying it more than either of us could have anticipated.” He sighs. “Him and that goddamn banjo. Honestly, there were a few _years_ where I couldn’t even bring myself to visit him, because he wouldn't put the damn thing down. It becomes rather difficult to maintain a conversation with someone who insists on playing bluegrass whenever you try to speak.”

That’s a surprisingly funny image, too. It’s something Alec could easily picture Magnus doing to someone, but it’s not something he thought Magnus would ever tolerate happening to _him._ “But at least he was good, right?”

“Oh, _god_ yes. Quite remarkably talented. It was the dedication, really. He’d do _anything_ to make me look like an idiot. And to take my money, for that matter.” Magnus chuckles, and his fingers start running absentmindedly across the back of the chair. It’s… distant. Like he’s not really paying attention to what’s happening. “I was being honest, he really _could_ make a career out of it. I keep telling him he should record an album one of these days. I’m sure it’d be a success. And after all, it’s not like he's got anything _else_ to-”

He stops.

For a moment, his face contracts. Screws up a bit. Like he’s… confused. Like…

Oh.

Like he just realized that he was using present tense. Talking about Ragnor like he’s… like he isn’t…

Magnus presses his lips together. Too hard. It looks like he might be biting down on the inside of his cheek. And then it’s-

It’s over. His expression becomes completely neutral. He makes a small, weak sound. And he shakes his head a bit, like he’s snapping out of… that.

Shit.

This sort of thing has happened before. It’s not the first time Magnus has mentioned Ragnor, anyway. And every time, he always gets to this point. Where _this_ sinks in, and he doesn’t want to keep talking. He pretends nothing happened. He pretends everything’s fine.

And he doesn’t actually say anything about it.

He never says anything about it.

But even though it’s done, and the moment has passed, and Magnus has put on that perfect ‘pretending he’s fine when he’s _obviously_ not’ face that he uses so often…

It still sucks.

Because they’re not saying anything. And for the first time today, that’s noticeable. And it’s strained. And it’s horrible.

_Shit._

There has to be something. Anything. Literally any combination of words that Alec can say to change the subject.

“So, why- uh. Why do you… keep that on your desk? If you don’t play it?”

Well, it’s something. It’s not exactly a _new_ subject, but it’s at least going one step back. It’s not moving on from the horrible topic, but it’s backing up to the part that was still okay. Hopefully that’s enough. Because it’s all Alec can think of.

Magnus’s eyebrows furrow a bit. Like it’s taking a moment to follow the new (or old, technically) train of thought.

But then, he smiles. Just a tiny bit. It still looks a little sad, but it’s an improvement. “I may not have any real _skill_ with it, but I did spend a few months studying it. I like to put some of that knowledge to use, every now and then.” He smirks. “Though Chairman Meow absolutely _hates_ me for it.”

Alec laughs, and he can’t tell if it’s because he’s actually amused, or just relieved that Magnus is smiling again. But, also- “Why did you try learning it for so long, if you were bad at it?” Alec can’t really imagine having the patience to keep playing an instrument if he had to _listen_ to himself suck at it all the time. He still remembers all the _hours_ he’d spent listening to Jace plunk away at incorrect keys on the piano when they were growing up. Getting poorly-played songs and scales stuck in everyone's heads for days on end because of it.

Magnus’s nose scrunches up. It’s weirdly adorable. “There _may_ have been a cute boy involved…”

Ah. Yeah. That’d do it.

Alec can’t quite help himself. The opportunity is right in front of him. “And he was into shitty musicians?”

There’s a moment where Magnus’s eyes go wide, and he looks too surprised to respond-

And then he scoffs, and shoves lightly at Alec’s head. “ _Very_ funny. He was an instructor. I needed an excuse to spend copious amounts of time with him. How else was I going to get him to like me?”

Alec’s trying to take this seriously, but really, he can’t. He at least ducks his head as he laughs, since he can't seem to stop himself. “Why- why did you think being bad at an instrument would make him like you?”

“Darling,” Magnus says severely, “you are underestimating just how _pretty_ this man was. If you would have seen him, you’d have done whatever it takes, too. No matter how stupid it seems in hindsight.”

And Alec just laughs harder.

But it doesn’t last long. Because after a few moments, he kinda starts wondering…

“Would… ah. Would you-” He bites his lip. “Nevermind.”

Magnus raises his eyebrows. “Would I what, sweetheart?”

Fuck. Alec can’t… He doesn’t think he can _actually_ ask this. It was just an impulse. By the Angel, it’s like he has no goddamn control over his mouth today. There’s just something about this morning that’s making him ask every stupid question that pops into his head.

So really, he might as well. He’s already started it.

But he looks down. He can’t look at Magnus while he asks something this stupid. “Would you have, um. W-would you have done that. For me?” His head jerks to the side. “I mean, not _that,_ obviously. But, something. Else. Like that. If you needed to.”

There’s a moment of silence.

Then, Magnus chuckles. And he runs his fingers through the hair at the back of Alec’s neck. “Alexander, is this your way of telling me that you want me to learn an instrument for you?”

“No-” Shit. That’s not… shit. “I mean, like… you didn’t have to really _do_ anything like that. You didn’t have to…” he rubs his lips together, but it doesn't help anything. “Try. You didn’t have to _get_ me to like you. I already did. It was… y’know. Other stuff.” Fuck. Why is he still talking? This isn’t working. He’s getting further and further away from his actual point. He tries to back up a bit. Explain the beginning instead of rambling to an ineffective end. “Y-you said, you said you had to try to get him to like you. And you didn’t. With me. So if you… if that- if that wasn’t how it…”

He realizes that his fists are clenched so tightly that his nails are biting into his palms. But he doesn’t realize it until _after_ it becomes unreasonably painful. He tries to loosen his hands. Tries to focus on relaxing enough to loosen his hands. Keeps trying to loosen his goddamn fucking hands…

Fuck. Why did he say anything? What the fuck is his problem today?

It’s still early. Maybe he can just go back to bed. Sleep for a few more hours. Pretend this never happened.

He resists the urge to literally smother his face with his hands… but only because Magnus is still trailing his fingers through Alec’s hair, and Alec doesn’t want him to stop. Doesn’t want him to…

Huh.

Magnus hasn’t stopped. He’s still playing gently with Alec’s hair. He’s still snuggled up to him (as best he can be, with how they’re situated on this chair).

And when Alec risks a glance up at him, he’s still smiling.

Okay. So at the very least, Magnus doesn’t seem to think Alec’s question was the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. He actually looks… kind of amused.

“Sweetheart,” he says in a low, almost conspiratorial voice, “are you saying you want to be _wooed?_ ”

Alec feels something that he can only assume is his heart being sucked into a black hole. “No, that’s not what I-”

It isn’t. It isn’t what he meant.

But it sounds… kinda nice.

Still.

“I wasn’t trying to- it was nothing. Forget it. Really.”

Magnus gets up - which is strangely disappointing, since they weren’t particularly close together in the first place. But then he stoops to press a kiss to the top of Alec’s head, and Alec can’t really complain about that. Except-

“Alright,” Magnus says decisively. Almost _triumphantly._

And he turns toward the door.

Wait. “Where are you going?” Alec doesn’t know what to do with the strange look of determination on Magnus’s face.

“I’m going to make a romantic breakfast. Obviously.” He flicks his wrist, and the door swings open (which just seems like an unnecessary bit of showing off. Extra dramatics. He could have just opened the damn door).

“No, Mags, wait!” Alec unfolds himself out of the chair as quickly as he can, sacrificing any semblance of grace in the process. “I’m serious, I didn’t mean anything- you don’t have to.”

“Tsk, tsk.” Magnus shakes his head slowly. “My boyfriend just said that he wants me to woo him, and that is _not_ a responsibility that I take lightly.”

Alec’s stomach is twisting about ten different ways at once. Because he can’t let Magnus cook him breakfast. He _can’t._ It’s unnecessary, and too much effort, and Alec really hadn’t meant anything by what he said. It was a dumb thing to say in the first place, like he was trying to imply that Magnus doesn’t do enough for him _already._ Because he does. Magnus already does too much for him. Way too much.

Alec’s not gonna let Magnus make his goddamn breakfast, on top of everything else.

But, at the same time…

Well. No one’s ever made him breakfast before. Not in a context like this, anyway. Not as a gesture. Not as a way of being nice. Not as a way of showing… that they like him.

Magnus likes Alec enough to make breakfast for him. It’s kinda… in a way, it’s kinda hard for Alec to want to turn down an offer like that.

Still. The line has to be drawn somewhere.

“But just…” Alec bites his lip. “You don’t have to do anything… fancy. You don’t have to, like, _cook_ or anything.”

Magnus sucks in a breath through his teeth. His expression is melodramatically apologetic. “Unfortunately, I’ve already decided that I’m going to make crepes. They’re obviously a staple of any romantic breakfast.”

“Crepes?” Alec repeats stupidly, for lack of anything more productive to say.

Magnus sighs, almost _mournfully._ “Yes, with strawberries shaped like little hearts.” He shrugs. “I clearly have no other choice.”

Alec’s mouth moves a few times. In useless little _flaps_ of his jaw, flapping over and over again until his brain catches up to him. “Can I at least help?”

And Magnus _giggles_ at him. “Angel, I can assure you that I am skilled enough at crepe-making that your assistance would only be a hindrance.”

Alec should probably be offended by that. Shouldn’t he? He could make a crepe, if he tried. It’s just a thin pancake. He’s good at making pancakes.

But he must take too long to respond, because Magnus clearly considers it a victory. He holds his head a little higher. His smile is infuriatingly playful. “Now, I am _going_ to make you crepes.” And he marches triumphantly out of the library.

Alec stumbles after him, desperately thinking of any way to stop him-

“Magnus Carl Bane!”

He says it as admonishingly as possible. The way Maryse always uses Alec's full name, the way that makes it sound like a complete sentence, one that communicates just how fucked he is without having to give any further clarification.

And it-

Works. It actually works. Because Magnus stops dead in his tracks, just about to round the corner past the kitchen table to get to the kitchen itself. And he laughs. It's loud at first, but he quickly tries to smother it with his hand.

It gives Alec just enough time.

He runs up behind Magnus, catches him around the waist, and lifts him up. Just far enough to get his feet off of the ground. Just far enough to keep him from getting to the kitchen.

Magnus gives an undignified yelp of protest. It’s a shaky sound, since he’s still laughing. He kicks his legs up, like he’s trying to break out of Alec’s grip. He actually ends up kicking both of his legs so high that it’s like he’s folding himself in half-

And the sudden change in equilibrium is almost enough momentum to send Alec toppling backwards to the floor. He has to take a few unsteady steps to keep them upright.

It certainly doesn’t help that both of them are laughing hard enough to basically make themselves physically useless.

Alec’s not sure if Magnus concedes, or if he wants to be put down, or if he’s just laughing too hard to keep fighting. But whatever the reason, he eventually gives up. So Alec sets him back down.

But Magnus doesn’t turn around. They just stay there for a minute. Standing next to the kitchen table. Alec’s arms wrapped around Magnus’s waist. Magnus’s back pressed to Alec’s chest. Still laughing, a little bit.

It’s still raining outside. It still smells like coffee. Alec’s still in his pajamas. Magnus is still in Alec’s sweatpants. They still haven’t really gotten ready for the day. They’ve been out of bed for probably an hour now (which means Alec’s been awake for a few hours), and they still haven’t… done much. Alec can’t remember the last time he was this unproductive. This lazy.

And it’s okay. It’s completely fine that he’s been up for three hours and hasn’t done anything but make coffee. Because there’s nothing else he _needs_ to be doing. There’s still a long stretch of day left before he needs to do anything at all. So it’s fine that for now, they’re doing nothing.

They have a whole day of nothing ahead of them. A nothing day.

That’s certainly a nice thought.

Magnus tilts his head back, pressing his forehead against Alec’s neck. One of his hands is running slowly across Alec’s arm, and he reaches up with the other to start playing with Alec’s hair again.

Alec doesn’t think he’d mind if they stayed like this all day.

So of course, the _moment_ he thinks that, Magnus starts to pull away. He gives Alec’s cheek a quick kiss, and carefully starts to disentangle himself from Alec’s arms.

Alec wants to stop him… but he immediately feels a pang in his empty stomach. Like it’s protesting the very _idea_ of Alec stopping Magnus from making him food.

It’ll have to be a compromise then. “Please let me help?” Alec tries to sound as sincere and appealing as possible. Because however much he needs food, he knows he won’t be able to survive standing uselessly in the kitchen, watching Magnus cook for him.

Magnus finally turns around, facing Alec again. He’s smiling, but he gives a _very_ put-upon sigh anyway. “ _Fine,_ ” he pouts, “I suppose you can cut the strawberries.” He twines his arms around Alec’s neck - which seems like a step backwards as far as cooking goes - and takes a step in. Slowly, _slowly_ shifting forward, until they’re pressed together…

And Alec has to remind himself how to breathe. “Y-yeah,” he tries for a regular voice, but it comes out as an unfortunately squeaky whisper. “That sounds… fair.”

And it is fair. Yeah. It’s a fair compromise. Alec thinks. Alec’s pretty sure he thinks. Honestly, Alec already can’t remember what either of them just said. Because Magnus kisses him, and starts gently pushing Alec backwards, walking them back a few steps until-

Alec gets pressed up against a wall. His eyes are closed, and he’s so disoriented that he’s not even sure what wall this is. Where they are. What’s going on.

But he sure as fuck doesn’t care. He just slips his hands down Magnus’s back, inside the waistband of his own sweatpants, inside Magnus’s soft, silky underwear. And he uses his grip on Magnus’s ass to pull him even closer.

Alec’s stomach makes an ugly grumbling sound. It makes Magnus breathe out a quiet laugh against his lips. But they don’t stop. They just stay there, letting the seconds (and possibly minutes) go by. Hearing the rain. Smelling the coffee.

With this sudden change of events, Alec thinks it might be a while before they actually get around to making breakfast.

But that’s alright. After all, they have plenty of time.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can honestly say that of all the chapters I've written, I never expected that the 'Nothing Day' would be what received multiple requests for a sequel (or prequel, as it turned out). But with the overwhelmingly positive response to plot-light, talk-heavy chapters, combined with several more details that Magnus and Alec needed to discuss at some point, a return to the Nothing Day seemed inevitable.
> 
> Also, a bit of an announcement: For those of you who haven't seen it yet, I've been posting a few little bits of bonus content for this series on my tumblr. The collection can be found [here](http://my-nameless-bliss.tumblr.com/post/151811763161), and it currently includes playlists, an official timeline, and several extra stories that don't quite work as chapters in this fic (primarily focusing on Magnus's past). That link is also posted in the author's notes for Chapter 1 of this fic, and on the main ao3 page for the original ALDNT series. Whenever I add any new bonus content, it'll be added to that post. =)


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People are looking. Alec can tell that people are looking. And he knows that some of them are glaring.  
> Alec likes holding Magnus’s hand when they walk. Alec likes taking his arm. Alec likes walking close to him.  
> His hands have been in his pockets this whole time. He didn’t even give Magnus a chance to offer.  
> But that’s not-  
> That’s not what he was _trying_ to do.  
>  Was it?

“Okay, but, aren’t you supposed to be in California right now? I could have sworn you said you were gonna be in California today.”

One side of Magnus’s mouth twists up in a little half-smile. “Tomorrow.”

Alec manages to contain himself to a simple nod of understanding, even though he kinda wants to sigh with relief. Because he was about to be _unbelievably_ embarrassed with himself for incorrectly thinking Magnus was supposed to be halfway across the goddamn country. Yeah, his work schedule is pretty unpredictable, but being _that_ wrong about it would be ridiculous. When Magnus texted him that he was coming to the Institute today, Alec had been completely disoriented.

But it’s not like he was upset that he got a surprise visit from Magnus.

Well, not really a ‘visit’. He wasn’t here to see Alec. He was here to help Izzy with… something.

Huh. He doesn’t actually know. Why doesn’t he know? Alec’s brain must have heard ‘I get to see Magnus in a few minutes’ and decided not to ask follow-up questions.

And now, whatever job he had with Izzy is done, and he’s heading out to go meet with his next client, and Alec _still_ has no fucking idea what he was doing here in the first place.

And, thinking about it like that…

Why did Izzy schedule a meeting with a High Warlock without asking Alec first? They don’t have the budget for that. Magnus has never been known for _under-_ pricing his services for Shadowhunters, and Alec’s pretty damn sure that dating him for two weeks isn’t going to get the Institute any sort of discount.

But the fine details of financing is _not_ what Alec wants to be focusing on right now. Because all of a sudden, with no warning, he gets to spend a few minutes with Magnus. At the Institute. Which is… kinda new.

Well, he’s spent a little bit of time with Magnus here (quite a few… _important_ moments, too). But not since…

The last time Magnus was here, everything was still a little confused. Not necessarily uncertain, but still somehow… muddled. They still hadn’t _really_ figured everything out. Alec wasn’t really sure what he… was. Yet.

And now he knows. He’s Magnus’s boyfriend.

He presses his lips together, trying to keep himself from smiling.

This is the first time that Magnus has been here since they started dating. And even though it’s not like he’s here _for_ Alec, or because of Alec, he’s still here, and he’s also Alec’s boyfriend.

Fuck. Alec’s smile gets too wide for him to smother it.

Boyfriend.

He’s not really… used to that yet. After all, it’s only been like, four days. Since they had that conversation. Since Alec quietly and frantically and _stupidly_ asked if that’s what they were. If that’s what Magnus wanted to be.

And Magnus had said yes.

And now, Alec has a boyfriend. And Alec _is_ a boyfriend.

It’s just a word. It’s stupid for Alec to care this much about one little word. He’s well aware of that.

But, still.

It’s nice. It’s unexpectedly nice. To be at the Institute. To be in this weird place that’s been his home his entire life, and is also his work now. It’s a strange blend of professional and private, all smushed into this one building. But whatever sort of definition he gives it, it’s still a place where he’s used to being… alone. Not literally - there are _always_ people here. But in this particular sense. Alec’s not sure if it’s that he feels like he’s never been with Magnus in his home, or like he’s never been with Magnus in his workplace.

But either way, Magnus is here now.

It’s a nice little surprise.

It’s not like they’re _doing_ anything. Magnus was here for a job. Alec has been in meetings all day. They just met up a few minutes ago. And Magnus is already on his way out. It’s practically nothing. Just talking. Just walking next to each other.

It’s so small. It shouldn’t be this important.

“I’m surprised you’ve managed to evade your responsibilities for this long,” Magnus says, with a hint of playful sarcasm.

And, fuck, how can he _always_ tell what Alec is thinking?

“Ah… no, it’s-” Alec sputters out a few inarticulate syllables that don’t combine into a single coherent word. “I just have training, for a bit. I’m… I’m training with Clary today, actually. Helping her out.”

Magnus smiles. “And she doesn’t mind being forced to wait, just so you can escort me to the door?”

Alec’s heart lurches for a second. A quick, icy moment of fear that he’s being made fun of-

But it passes quickly. Because that’s not what it is. He knows that. Magnus isn’t making fun of him. He may be teasing, but he’s not teasing _Alec._ Not like that.

So Alec laughs. Or he tries to, anyway. It sounds more like a weak response to being punched in the stomach. “She, um. She said it was fine. To wait a bit.” He smiles, and bites his lip to try and make himself stop. “I mean, _you’re_ the one who should be in a hurry. I’m sure your next job is _way_ more important than training.” He takes a breath, trying to steady himself. He looks straight ahead, not at Magnus, not willing to let Magnus see him blush. “And you haven’t said anything about the fact that I’ve been walking you _away_ from the front door this whole time.”

Magnus… doesn’t respond. They just keep walking.

The suspense becomes too much. Alec _has_ to look over at him-

He’s smiling. Looking down at his own feet. “I was curious to see what you were planning.” He looks up at Alec, and raises one eyebrow. “Where exactly are you taking me?”

Alec stops.

And glances around.

“I…”

He smiles. Sheepishly. “I don’t know. Just not to the door.”

Magnus’s smile breaks open into a grin, even as he rolls his eyes. “While this has been a lovely little excursion, I think it’s time for you to show me to the door.” His head tilts to one side. “ _Actually_ to the door, this time.”

Alec nods, with a quiet, wavering laugh. It’s not like Magnus actually needs to be shown where the door is. He knows how the Institute works. Hell, he’s been coming here since before Alec even existed. It’s not like he doesn’t know the layout by now.

Alec wants to say something about that, but he’s afraid his voice would be a bit _squeakier_ than he wants it to be. But it’s not his fault. He’s just not used to seeing Magnus look at him like this, while he’s here. He’s not used to standing in a random hallway in the Institute, and having someone _smile_ at him. Like this. Soft, and fond, like…

Like he’s genuinely happy to be seeing him.

Alec’s only used to seeing a smile like this in Magnus’s loft. Or from across the table at a nice restaurant. Or when he glances over on the walk from one of those places to the other. He’s not used to seeing it here.

He’s not used to feeling like this here.

Yeah, he’s been feeling some truly _stupid_ shit lately, because of Magnus. Stuff that’s childish and immature and full of an embarrassing amount of blushing and hiding his face in his pillow as he reads Magnus’s goodnight texts. He’s used to feeling the aftermath here. The stupid rush of excitement and anticipation and goddamn butterflies flopping around in his stomach. The way he’s felt when he’s gotten home from both of their dates. The way he feels when he tries to fall asleep, but can’t, because he’s still thinking about it.

He doesn’t feel like that when he’s actually with Magnus. It’s different, when they’re together. It’s not like he’s any _less_ happy, it’s just…

It’s calmer.

He feels calm, when he’s with Magnus. And he’s not exactly used to feeling _calm_ in the Institute. He’s stressed here. For one reason or another, it’s basically his constant state of being. So it’s a nice relief. Getting to feel the calm he feels when he’s with Magnus. Getting to feel it here. Even if it’s not gonna last.

Because they’ve turned around now. And they’re actually going the right way. Magnus is actually leaving.

Alec tries to fight back his disappointment…

But actually, it’s kinda easy. Because today, this isn’t it. This isn’t the last time he’s going to see Magnus. Yeah, they both have a few more hours of shitty workdays to deal with. But then, they get to go on their date.

Alec’s stomach lurches with excitement.

Their third date. Three dates, in two weeks. So much more than he thought they’d be able to have, considering their stupidly busy schedules. So much more than…

So much more than Alec thought he’d ever be able to have. More than he thought he’d ever be allowed to have.

His throat makes a dumb little noise. He tries to cover it with a cough, but Magnus looks over at him anyway.

Shit.

He needs something to say. He needs a diversion.

Oh.

“I, uh. I d-didn’t, didn’t ask you yesterday, but I was kinda… wondering.” Alec’s hands are clenched into fists _and_ shoved into his pockets, but he still feels the urge to start twiddling his fingers when he hears how stupid his voice sounds. He just squeezes his fists a little tighter, but it doesn’t help much. “Why do you have to go all the way to California for a job?”

Magnus give an amused little hum. It sounds weirdly quaint. Or, maybe like he thinks the question is quaint. “Because that’s where my client lives. And it’s easier for me to go to them, than for them to come to me.”

Alec closes his eyes, so Magnus can’t see him roll them (because he’s rolling them at _himself,_ not Magnus). Because, yeah. Duh. Fucking duh. Alec should have realized that that’s the answer to the question he asked. So he tries rephrasing it, tries patching the words together correctly, so he’ll get the answer he actually wants. “Yeah, right. Yeah. But, I mean like…” his mouth scrunches up a bit. “They don’t have warlocks in California?”

Fuck. That _still_ doesn’t sound right. “I don’t mean, it’s not- I’m not saying they _shouldn’t_ hire you, it just seems, ah. I meant-”

“Why would they specifically think to hire _me,_ when it’d be easier to find someone significantly closer to them?”

“Yeah,” Alec says quietly, though it sounds a bit more like a sigh. Because that’s exactly what he meant.

Fuck, if it’s so easy for Magnus to think of the right words, why can’t Alec ever do it?

Magnus tips his head back, and waves one of his hands in a subtle, but very _dignified_ gesture. “Because they know that I am _better_ than any other option.”

Alec laughs, even though he’s not really sure how he can tell that it’s a joke. But he can. It’s one of those jokes where the exact wording of it is sarcastic, but he knows that the actual _point_ of it is basically honest.

And, like always, Magnus smiles as Alec laughs. Like he… likes hearing it.

But, since it was technically a joke, Magnus follows it up with a real answer. Like always. “I’ve established connections with various people who come to me for numerous services over long periods of time. ‘Regulars’, if you will. So even if we eventually end up a few cities or countries or continents apart, they still prefer working with me.” His smile turns a little wry. “And it’s not as though it’s a hardship to have an excuse to go galavanting off to Shanghai every now and then.”

Alec thinks he’s probably supposed to laugh at that, but he doesn’t. Because it sounds… real. It sounds nice. Getting to spend a few random hours in a different country, with the legitimate reason of it being for work. Yeah, Alec’s been to Idris more times than he can count, but that’s really not the same. He doesn’t count Idris as seeing the world. Far from it. Seeing Idris is seeing the inside of council chambers and meeting halls and _nothing_ different from his life here. It’s the exact same type of experience as staying inside the New York Institute all day long, but with _slightly_ prettier scenery. It’s this exact Institute, with like, a lake.

It’s not surprising that Magnus gets to do something like that. Poofing himself all over the world whenever the fuck he wants. And it’s also not surprising that there are people who’ve hired him before, and keep hiring him, over and over again. Hell, that’s technically what the Institute does. It’s not _exactly_ the same, but in a way, they could be considered one of Magnus’s regulars.

Alec’s just not used to hearing it like that. Hearing about Magnus getting to go all over the world, just for work. It’s such a nice little bonus. A perk.

And Alec imagines that it’s quite a relief, after having to work at the Institute today. It’s not really the same, since he was working with Izzy (and the two of them have always gotten along _ridiculously_ well). But still. It’s the Institute. It’s not exactly Magnus’s favorite place on earth. It’s only been two weeks, but Alec’s already _very_ aware of that.

And… fuck. It’s not hard to understand why.

Because just on this walk, this two minute walk to the front door, Magnus is getting an unreasonable amount of attention. What the fuck is everyone’s problem? Everyone _knows_ who he is. They know the Institute works with him sometimes. They shouldn’t be so… upset. So _obviously_ upset to see him here. Uncomfortable. With a downworlder’s presence, in a Shadowhunter’s place of work.

But they are. Alec can see it. They’re not exactly trying to hide it. At all.

Fuck.

It’s not everyone. Some people aren’t even giving them a second glance when they walk past. But some people are. Some people are seeing them, and disliking it, and not even bothering to pretend that they don’t. By the Angel, is it _always_ this bad when Magnus comes here? Alec doesn’t remember seeing this much open animosity when Magnus has been here before. It’s not like they should suddenly-

Oh. Shit.

Is it because… it’s not just Magnus this time? Is it because it’s Magnus, and him?

_Fuck._

This is the High Warlock of Brooklyn, and Alec is basically the head of the Institute. In a way, Alec is everyone’s boss right now. They shouldn’t just be openly _glaring_ at them like this.

He and Magnus aren’t even doing anything. They’re just walking. It’s not like they’re on a date. It’s not like they’re doing _anything_ inappropriate. And it’s not just that they’re not doing anything affectionate. They’re not even doing anything… familiar. Alec could be walking next to someone he’s never even _met_ before, and it wouldn’t look any different than this. There’s no way anyone could look at them and _know_ what’s going on. There’s no way anyone could tell that they’re dating, if they didn’t already know (because even if they weren’t there for… for the wedding - word travels fast. Anyone who didn’t actually _see_ what happened found out soon enough).

They’re just walking. Next to each other. Not even _right_ next to each other. There’s at least two feet of space between them. Fuck, it’s downright unusual for them to have this much space between them when they walk. It’s-

Oh.

It’s…

It’s more than usual.

Alec doesn’t even realize it until they’re almost at the door.

But, once he thinks about it…

There’s a lot of space between them. A lot more than normal.

They’ve taken a few walks together. On both of their dates, they’ve walked to and from the restaurant. Even… even taking what Magnus calls the ‘scenic route’, just to have more time like that. More time to walk. Together.

On their first date, Magnus offered Alec his arm. And Alec had barely been able to _breathe_ with how many butterflies swarmed in his chest. At the… charm of it. Looping his arm through Magnus’s. Walking arm-in-arm. It was so, well. Charming. It’s the only word Alec knows for it.

And on their second date, on their way back to the loft, Alec had taken several deep breaths, gathered his courage, _desperately_ hoped he wasn’t making an idiot of himself…

And he’d taken Magnus’s hand.

And it had felt awkward, and stupid, and like a horrible mistake.

But Magnus had made a quiet, happy sound, and moved a little closer to him… and twined their fingers together.

Alec’s heart is doing a stupid little flip-flop just thinking about it. But now-

Now, there’s so much distance between them.

And it… sort of makes sense. A little. After all, they’re at work. Both of them. This may not be Magnus’s place of work, but he’s here for work. And this may actually be Alec’s home, but he’s working right now. They’re working. It’s work.

So it makes sense that they aren’t holding hands.

But, still…

There’s so much space between them.

It’s… strange.

It’s an unusual amount of space. More than Alec usually has with anyone else here. He walks closer to Izzy, and Jace, and basically everyone. This is more than a ‘normal’ amount of space.

And while he knows it’s not exactly professional to be bumping shoulders with his boyfriend while they’re at work-

He sort of wonders…

Which one of them did this.

If it was Magnus, giving them room, acknowledging that this is a professional setting and they can’t exactly be in each other’s back pockets right now…

Or if it was him. If it was Alec. Subconsciously trying to stay… away. Trying to keep his distance. Trying not to draw any attention to them. Trying to not let anyone… know.

Even though everyone already knows. Everyone’s already thinking it. No one’s fooled, no matter how many feet of empty air they’re keeping between them.

He doesn’t know why it matters. The space makes sense. It’s a professional consideration. But…

Somehow, it doesn’t feel like that. There’s too much space. More than they need. Alec keeps a professional amount of distance between himself and _everyone_ he deals with here. This is more than that. This is cautionary.

And it’s-

“Well.” Magnus says suddenly, and he makes it sound like a complete sentence. Because…

Oh.

They’re at the front door.

So this is it. Magnus is leaving.

By the Angel, Alec is seeing him again in less than six hours. This isn’t a big deal. He knows he’s seeing him again in a few hours. In a _completely_ different context than this, too. When they’ll be walking shoulder-to-shoulder. Holding hands. Not worrying about this.

But for now…

Magnus isn’t doing anything.

They’re standing by the door. Magnus is about to leave. This is… goodbye. It’s much more temporary than their usual goodbyes, but still. This is it.

Magnus is smiling. A small, subtle smile.

And he’s standing. A few feet away.

It’s not… what Alec is used to. It feels stupid, thinking that he’s _used_ to anything, after only two weeks. Two dates. That’s all they’ve had.

But standing here, with this much distance between them, not doing  _anything,_ when they’re supposed to be saying goodbye… it feels strange. And Alec’s not sure if it’s because it’s the Institute, because it’s a place of work, because Magnus is trying to be professional…

Or if it’s because there are people here. Looking at them. Watching them.

And Alec wonders if he was… trying to stay away from Magnus, because of it. Trying to make sure that it didn’t look like they…

Because people are looking. Alec can tell that people are looking. And he knows that some of them are glaring.

Alec likes holding Magnus’s hand when they walk. Alec likes taking his arm. Alec likes walking close to him.

His hands have been in his pockets this whole time. He didn’t even give Magnus a chance to offer.

But that’s not-

That’s not what he was _trying_ to do.

Was it?

Alec stomach ties into a tight, cold knot. Because he doesn’t want that to be… he doesn’t want Magnus to think…

He doesn’t want Magnus to think he’s uncomfortable. With people seeing them. He doesn’t want Magnus to think that he doesn’t want to be seen with him. That’s not what it is. He didn’t _mean_ to keep distance between them. It just… happened. He didn’t want it to happen. He doesn’t want Magnus to-

“I hope the rest of your day isn’t _too_ strenuous.”

Magnus is still smiling. Calmly. Still standing so far away.

Because he thinks Alec wants him to. He’s not going to do anything to say goodbye, because he thinks Alec wouldn’t like it. He’s respecting Alec’s space. He’s making sure they don’t do anything that could look affectionate.

Because he thinks that’s what Alec wants.

But it’s not. Alec knows that’s how it looks, he knows that’s what he did. He knows _he’s_ the one who did it. But it was just some twisted sort of instinct. Habit. He’s so used to needing to keep distance from Magnus. That’s how it always was, before.

He doesn’t want to be like that anymore. He doesn’t want to care about the people glaring at them. He doesn’t want Magnus to feel like Alec doesn’t want him anymore, because people are watching. He still wants him. Just as much as ever. He doesn’t know how-

Magnus is still smiling. It’s small. He nods slightly, like that’s just how they always say goodbye. Like that’s the only thing they do.

And he turns to leave.

“Wait, Magnus-”

Alec reaches out. Grabs Magnus’s hand. He can’t let him leave like this. He can’t let Magnus think that’s all Alec wants.

Magnus turns back. His eyebrows are raised, and his expression is like a question mark.

Alec takes a step in. A step closer. Close.

And he kisses Magnus’s cheek.

It’s not much. It’s not like it’s inappropriate. It’s not like it’s something he _shouldn’t_ do here.

But still, it’s something. Standing close to Magnus. Magnus’s hand in his. His lips pressed to Magnus’s cheek. Lingering, second after second. Until Alec feels like it’s enough to… last. Enough of a goodbye to last until they see each other again.

And he doesn’t care that people are watching.

He pulls back eventually, but he doesn’t go far. He still wants to be close.

Magnus is still smiling. But now, it’s different. Bigger. Brighter. With his eyebrows still raised a bit, like he’s surprised. Pleasantly surprised. Almost like…

He’s not _blushing,_ is he? Magnus doesn’t blush.

“I, uh…” Alec swallows. “I’ll see you tonight?”

Magnus tilts his head, and even though it’s not like he tilts it _toward_ Alec, it still feels… close. Affectionate. “I only wish it could be sooner.”

Alec bites his lip, but a little laugh gets out anyway. Fuck, it’s basically a giggle. “Yeah. Um…” Alec tries to take a breath. It doesn’t quite work. “Bye.”

By the Angel, that’s the _best_ he can do? Fucking idiot.

But Magnus doesn’t seem to mind. After all, he’s still smiling. “Goodbye, darling.”

Something squeezes in Alec’s rib cage, tight, but warm. At the same time, in a bit of physical symmetry, he squeezes Magnus’s hand.

And Magnus squeezes right back.

He gives Alec one last little smile, and he leaves.

Alec takes a breath, and sighs it out as he watches the door slowly swing shut.

Alright.

Just a few more hours. A few more hours of shitty, boring work. And then, he gets to go on a date. With his boyfriend.

Just a few more hours.

Alec turns back, trying to find _some_ way to psych himself up for an afternoon spent training with Clary-

People are looking.

Not many, but still. There are a few.

Alec takes another deep breath. And he lifts his chin, just a bit.

Just a few more hours.

Alright.

He can do this.

  


“I don’t get it.”

“I’m certain that if you wait patiently, the movie will _explain_ it to you,” Magnus says, with that perfect tone of patronization that he always uses when he’s trying to annoy Jace. And just to _really_ make his point, he tosses another piece of popcorn into his mouth, like an over-dramatic punctuation mark.

And, as always, Jace falls for it. Alec’s still looking at the screen, but he can _feel_ Jace glare over at Magnus. Right through Alec. “It doesn’t make any _sense._ If their technology is so advanced that they have these droid things, why does she have to _physically_ send the message with it? What, they have _robots_ , but they don’t have email?”

Magnus leans in toward Alec, tilting his face as though he’s speaking _only_ to Alec, but quite obviously not lowering his voice at all. “Is he always like this?”

“Yes,” Isabelle chimes in from her spot on the floor. “He can’t even watch a damn Pixar movie without nitpicking the plot to pieces.”

Clary laughs as best she can with a small collection of bobby pins clenched between her teeth (she’s been doing something stupidly complicated to Izzy’s hair since before the movie even started, and she’s _still_ not done). “He complained about a car commercial yesterday.”

“How was that song supposed to help sell _cars?_ _”_ Jace huffs, and settles further into the couch cushions, like he’s making himself an angry little nest. “Are we really watching three of these things?”

“Consider yourself lucky,” Magnus says lightly. “It would have been six, but _someone_ won’t let us watch the prequels.”

Simon shifts against the foot of the couch. Squares his shoulders. Tries to look dignified, even though he’s sitting on the damn rug in front of the couch, completely ignoring the fact that there’s plenty of room for him _on_ the couch. “You can watch them after I leave,” he says, like it’s somehow magnanimous of him. “It’ll probably be dawn by then anyway.”

Jace’s head tips back. “I’m not watching space movies until _dawn._ I didn’t sign up for that.”

“Aw, c’mon, you gotta see how it all ends up!” Simon says, just a bit too eager to sound genuine. “Especially the whole Luke and Leia thing, you’ll _loooove_ that.”

Clary makes a little squeak around her mouthful of pins. And she shoots Simon a look that’s equal parts horror and righteous fury.

And with an expression like that, Alec can clearly tell what she’s thinking.

So he graciously decides to help her out. He lifts one of his legs off the footrest, and kicks Simon in the head. Making sure it’s just as hard as Clary would have smacked him, if her hands weren’t tangled up in Izzy’s hair.

The intention must come across pretty well, because Simon directs his indignant “Hey!” at Clary, and doesn't even glance back at Alec.

“Children, no fighting,” Magnus says, still absently munching on popcorn. Unlike pretty much everyone else, his focus is completely on the movie.

Well, Alec’s looking at the screen, at least. It’s something. It’s the vague idea of watching the movie. He’s just a little… distracted.

Because this is kinda weird.

Definitely nice, but still weird.

It’s been five months (to the day, but it’s not like Alec’s counting). Five months of dating Magnus.

And this is the first time they’ve done something like this. All of them. Hanging out. In one big group. His siblings, and his “friends” (he’s still somewhat apprehensive about completely removing the air quotes), and his boyfriend. Together.

Yeah, they’ve all been together before. But not in this context. It’s always for a serious purpose. Never just to… hang out. Watch a movie. Watch an entire series of movies.

It’s nice.

Alec takes a handful of popcorn from the bowl in Magnus’s lap. The giant, intricate, no doubt priceless, _crystal_ bowl.

That he’s filled with popcorn. Because why not.

Simon scoots a bit on the floor - what seems like the perfect amount of distance to keep him out of the reach of Alec’s feet. “I’m not the one fighting. I respect Star Wars more than anyone else here.”

Magnus hums, sharp and pointed. “That’s an interesting assessment.”

Simon turns his head just enough to see Magnus. Not that it matters, since Magnus’s gaze is still locked on the screen. “Really? I didn’t even know you’d _seen_ any of them until tonight.”

“Ha!” Alec almost chokes on a mouthful of popcorn, but it’s worth it, for the amount of sarcasm in his laughter.

And Magnus smiles, like he’s pleased that Alec took care of the sarcastic laughter for him. “You may not realize this, Stephen, but I am actually old enough to have been in Hollywood for the premiere.”

Simon perks up _instantly._ “Seriously? Did you like… go in costume and stuff?”

Magnus scoffs. “Of course not, don’t be ridiculous.” He smirks. “I hadn’t seen the film yet. How would I have known what to wear?”

The deliberate vagueness of his answer works like a charm. Because Alec can see Simon’s eyes widen, just a little. Like he’s latched onto the hint that Magnus _might_ have worn a costume to the premiere of some of the later movies. Like he’s trying to guess which character it might have been.

Alec shoves more popcorn into his mouth to try and keep himself from smiling. Because he knows. The costume’s still tucked away in Magnus’s closet.

“Hey, can you not talk so much during important plot stuff?” Jace asks, conveniently ignoring the fact that _he_ started this particular round of conversation. “Some of us actually haven’t seen this before.” And he bumps his shoulder against Alec’s, like he’s expecting backup.

“Speak for yourself,” Alec garbles around his mouthful of popcorn, “I’ve seen all of them.”

(He decides not to mention the fact that he and Magnus had gotten rather… _distracted_ when they’d watched them together two months ago. They’d gotten distracted several times throughout the series, actually. Alec probably couldn’t even give a half-decent summary of the plot if his life depended on it. Hell, the only thing he remembers clearly about this particular movie is that one minute, everything was fine, and by the time Magnus had gotten him off, everyone was suddenly in a dumpster. He’s actually kinda excited to see the context for that.)

Without getting the support he wanted, Jace just settles back into the cushions, and takes another sip of his beer.

And things quiet down. Things get appropriately quiet for watching a movie. Finally. Alec didn’t really have much hope for this particular group to keep their mouths shut for the entire length of a movie…

But the silence goes on for over a full minute, which is a new record. Everyone’s actually paying attention.

Well, except for Clary, who’s somehow _still_ twisting or braiding or pinning or doing _something_ to Izzy’s unnecessarily elaborate hairstyle.

And Simon, who’s been on his phone probably every thirty seconds since he got here. It would be strange that he’s not focusing on the movie - since this was his idea in the first place - but Alec’s caught enough accidental glances at the screen to know that he’s been texting Raphael, which is hardly unusual.

Although, now that he thinks about it…

If Raphael’s gonna sit and text Simon all damn night, why didn’t he just show up in the first place? Magnus invited him. Alec knows for a fact that Magnus invited him.

Actually, Alec ended up hearing almost the entire conversation on accident yesterday, since Magnus had put his phone on speaker. The ‘official’ excuse Magnus had told everyone was that Raphael had some sort of important clan meeting thing to deal with (which everyone had accepted, even though Simon would have had to go to something like that too, wouldn’t he?), but from what Alec overheard yesterday, it sounded like it was a bit less complicated than that. He’s pretty sure Raphael said something about not wanting to watch Star Wars because he likes Star Trek better… and Alec genuinely can’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. He’s really bad at recognizing sarcasm from Raphael.

But whatever the real reason is that he’s not here, Alec’s pretty sure he’s being given an exact transcript of everything that’s happening.

Huh. Maybe Alec should be texting an exact transcript to Luke, just to keep it fair. He’s the only other person who was invited and isn’t here. Though he has a much more legitimate reason, since he’s _actually_ at work.

But even if he weren’t at work, Alec’s not entirely sure if he’d want to come? After all, this is a group hang with his daughter and all of her friends. Just because Magnus invited him, that doesn’t really negate the fact that this might not be the generation that Luke wants to hang out with on a Friday night. Alec kinda…

He kinda wonders if that’s ever weird for Magnus. He’s been friends with Luke for _decades,_  basically since before any of them were even born. And now he’s been absorbed into the same social circle as Luke’s kid. Magnus is literally juggling multiple generations of friendships. Alec wonders if Magnus has ever been in a situation like this before.

Also, when he thinks about it like that… Alec is friends with Clary. And Clary is Luke’s daughter. And Luke is Magnus’s friend. And Magnus is dating Alec-

Nope. Too complicated. Not worth thinking about. Besides, it doesn’t count. It’s not like Alec can _actually_ think that he’s dating Clary’s _dad’s_ friend. Well, technically he _is,_ but yeah. It doesn’t count. Not like that.

And regardless, this is not a valid train of thought for a movie marathon. He’s supposed to be having fun, and finally _watching_ Star Wars without taking sex breaks every ten minutes.

Maybe he needs another drink. He’s already basically chugged a wine cooler, but as if _that’s_ enough to get him through an entire night of social activity. Pretty intense social activity, too. This is like, his entire friend group. This is basically every person he’s social with. All at once. All night. He’s not used to being with his friends and his boyfriend at the same time.

He’s not…

He’s not used to being with Jace and Magnus at the same time. He’s not sure he’s ever really spent an extended period of time with both of them. Not like this. Not with Magnus cozied up on one side of him, and Jace on the other. It’s…

Weirdly enough, he thinks it’s actually kinda nice.

It’s like a weird… it’s not exactly a ‘full circle’ moment, but there’s some sort of… clarity to it.

Because he hasn’t thought about Jace since he started dating Magnus. Not once. Not in that context. It ended so quickly, once Magnus was there.

But now, having them both right here, it’s a little too easy to think about what things used to be like.

And what things are like now.

With Jace sitting on his left. With all of those memories, all those years Alec had spent feeling… that. Feeling that sort of love. The desperate, hopeless, miserable way he’d felt about it. All the stress, and the fear. How just sitting this close to him on a couch would send all of Alec’s nerves into high gear. Terrified that he might let himself get too close. The thrill he’d get if they so much as brushed elbows, or bumped knees. The shame he’d feel for letting himself be thrilled by it. The way that Alec had felt so _deeply_ about him, and how unhappy it had made him.

And then…

Magnus. Sitting on his right.

Alec doesn’t really think it’s fair to compare the two situations like that. After all, he’s dating Magnus. He’s actually, literally dating him. And of _fucking_ course it’s nicer to actually be in a relationship with someone than to just pine for them in secret. It’s not like it’s somehow _surprising_ that he’s happier in his relationship with Magnus than he was in his unrequited crush with Jace. That’s just… obvious. That’s how it works.

But somehow, sitting here, really thinking about the _difference_ for the first time…

There was nothing good about being in love with Jace. Thinking he was in love with Jace. Obviously there’d been so many times when he was with Jace and he was happy, but every single one of those times, it was because his feelings for Jace had nothing to do with it. He wasn’t focusing on his feelings for him. He was just… with him.

And every time, as soon as he started thinking about him in a romantic context, it immediately went bad. The guilt would come back. The hopelessness. The bitter taste of anxiety in his mouth. Alec would be miserable again, and all he could do was think about how inevitable it was that he ended up miserable. At that point, it was all he deserved.

He still loves Jace. He’s always loved Jace. He knows that.

But he’s never been in love with Jace.

It’s such a stupid distinction. A stupid little bit of semantics that really shouldn’t be important. One word. One extra word. ‘In.’ Love, versus _in_ love. Alec had heard the distinction before, but he’d always basically thought it was bullshit. He didn’t understand how you could contextualize something like _love._

He gets it now.

He loves Jace, the same way he loves Izzy, and Max. It’s love. It’s absolutely, unquestionably love.

But it’s a specific type of love. Not better or worse than any other type, but definitely distinct. Different.

It’s different than the type with the butterflies, and the blood always rushing to his face, and the weird tingle in his palms, and the way his heart can speed up like he’s running a marathon, but it still leaves him feeling calmer than he’s ever felt. The calm, happy, stomach-twisting type of love.

The type of love he feels for Magnus. The ‘ _in_ love’ type. That tiny, stupid distinction. Yeah, he loves Magnus, but he’s also in love with him. By the Angel, it sounds so _stupid_ to phrase it like that, but it's accurate. He-

Oh.

No. That’s not-

He’s not…

He’s not… in love with Magnus. Of course he isn’t. That’s…

It’s only been five months. That’s not… enough time. Right? He’s not supposed to think something like that yet. What the fuck makes him think that _he_ understands what it’s like to be in love with someone? Look at his fucking track record: in love with one person most of his life, only to realize he wasn’t actually _in love_ with him at all. That’s it. That’s all he’s got.

So what makes him thinks he knows what he’s doing? What makes him keep thinking he’s in love with Magnus? Why does he…

Why does he keep thinking it? That he’s in love with Magnus?

Because he does. He thinks it. A lot. For over a month now, at least. He just keeps… thinking it. Little moments, little stupid _bursts_ of feeling, here and there. Magnus will say something to him, or look at him a certain way, or just… be there. When Alec wakes up in bed with him. Sometimes that’s all it takes, and Alec…

No. It’s stupid to even think it. Alec’s not…

Well, maybe.

Magnus laughs quietly.

Alec’s not paying enough attention to the movie to know if something funny just happened. His eyes have been pointed toward the screen, but it’s like he’s been looking past it. Thinking too hard to be able to see anything. But he blinks back into focus, and looks over at Magnus.

It takes Magnus a few moments to notice. His eyes flick a bit, like he’s catching Alec’s gaze in his periphery, and doing a little double-take. When he finally turns his head to really _look_ at Alec, it’s with a bit of… surprise? Confusion. Like he’s not sure why Alec’s suddenly looking at him so intently.

And since Alec doesn’t have a goddamn reason, that’s a pretty legitimate response.

But even though there’s no reason for Alec to be looking at him, Magnus doesn’t look away.

There’s glitter around his eyes. A thick, goldish-pinkish line of glitter tracing a perfect shape. Thickest and brightest right at his lashes (which are also glittery), and getting fainter up toward his brows. Starting as a liner, and fading into a dusty eyeshadow. His eyes have been glamoured tonight, and Alec’s pretty sure that was an artistic decision. Because the contrast between the darkness of his eyes and the brightness of the glitter is… so beautiful. Mesmerizing. Alec feels like he… can’t look away.

He can’t look away.

That is, until Magnus smiles at him. Even though nothing’s happening. Even though Alec is just staring at him for no reason. Even though they’re supposed to be watching the movie.

Magnus smiles, and Alec’s gaze immediately drops to his lips. He can’t help himself. They're such a dark, _deep_ red right now. But with… some purple, maybe? Alec’s still not good with the finer points of naming colors. He thinks this is probably something like… burgundy.

Yeah. That sounds right.

Whatever it is, it’s unnecessarily gorgeous. As if Alec didn’t have enough trouble keeping his eyes off of Magnus’s mouth anyway, now there’s this lipstick drawing his gaze and basically _begging_ him to kiss it right off of Magnus’s face (figuratively, of course, since it’s not like Magnus’s fancy lipsticks just rub off like that).

So Magnus’s eyes are beautiful and Magnus’s lips are impossibly tempting and Magnus is still _smiling_ at him for all this time even though he was so focused on the movie and-

Fuck.

Fucking _fuck._

Why are there people here? Why the fuck are there people here who aren’t them?

Because Alec needs to kiss Magnus. Right now.

And he can’t.

Well, he supposes he _could._ If it were really necessary, he would be physically capable of kissing Magnus right now.

Apart from the fact that the very thought of it makes his throat close up.

He’s not used to being with Magnus, and his friends. His siblings. He can’t… he can’t be the way he usually is with Magnus, when they're here.

It’s not that he thinks anyone would mind. It’s been five months. Everyone knows what’s going on. He’s held Magnus’s hand in front of them. He’s hugged him. Even kissed him - though just as a quick form of greeting or goodbye. Hell, he and Izzy have had an _unfortunate_ number of conversations about their sex life (since she’s apparently worried about him being safe, since he’s so inexperienced. As though that weren’t already Magnus’s top priority). Everyone here knows. Alec doubts any of them would even bat an eye if Alec kissed Magnus, right here and now. For no reason. Right in the middle of the movie.

But…

He can’t.

It’s not them. Well, it sort of is. But it’s not _them,_ it’s not their reaction, or what they’d think, or what it would mean for them.

It’s Alec. Alec doesn’t think he can handle being… intimate. With other people here.

It’s different. The times that they _have_ seen Alec be intimate with Magnus, it was different. A quick moment, like the kisses. A small detail in a bigger situation, like when they’ve all walked somewhere, and Alec's held Magnus’s hand. It wasn’t… sustained. It wasn’t the focus of the moment. It was just one little bit of everything else that was happening.

But now, with everyone just sitting here, not doing anything, clumped together on this couch (even though the couch is _massive_ and could probably seat twice as many of them. Alec still doesn’t know why so many people decided to sit on the floor). It’d be more noticeable. Since there’d be more opportunity to notice it. There’d be an entire night for them to notice it.

Alec doesn’t know why that’s important. But it’s probably-

It’s probably the reason why Magnus is sitting next to him. With an inch or two of empty couch between them.

It’s why Magnus is snuggled up against the armrest, instead of Alec. It’s why both of Alec’s hands are in his lap, and his feet are crossed on the footrest. He’s keeping himself… small. Contained. To himself.

He doesn’t like it. It’s not like this, when it’s just the two of them.

Well, technically, if it _were_ just the two of them, their hands would probably be in each other’s pants by now, and it’s not like Alec wants to do _that_ with his siblings right next to him.

But something smaller. Something simpler. Why can’t he…

No one would care. He knows no one would care. He knows that no one would give it a _tenth_ of the thought he’s giving it right now. No one cares.

Even Magnus doesn’t care. Because after another minute of smiling, he gives Alec a little wink. And goes back to watching the movie.

Fuck.

Alec takes a deep breath. He moves his arm-

And immediately loses his nerve.

Shit.

He takes another deep breath.

And he puts his arm on the back of the couch. Behind Magnus.

By the Angel, it’s _barely_ one step above the stupid ‘fake-yawn-arm-stretching’ cliche. It feels so… obvious. Like this small, silent movement should somehow be enough to immediately draw everyone’s attention.

But, unsurprisingly, no one notices. Everyone keeps watching the movie. Alec keeps breathing, once he can remember how to breathe. No one notices.

Except Magnus.

Alec feels frozen in place by sheer anxiety, so he doesn’t look over. But after a moment, Magnus moves. He shifts a little, so he’s-

He’s cuddled against Alec’s side. It’s not much. It’s a subtle change from where he was.

But he’s so warm. And his head is tilted a bit, tilted in toward Alec. And his legs are closer to Alec’s, stretched out on the footrest. Side by side.

Alec takes another breath.

He moves his arm, so it’s actually looped around Magnus’s shoulders, instead of just lying on the couch. And he uncrosses his feet, so they’re closer to Magnus’s.

Magnus gets the idea right away, and rests his foot over Alec’s. Tangles their legs together, just a bit.

No one notices. No one cares.

Alec puts his other hand on Magnus’s thigh. Rubs his fingers lightly over the fabric of his pants.

Magnus hums, too quietly to be heard over the movie. Too quiet for anyone to hear him.

Anyone except Alec.

And it’s…

It’s nothing. It’s not the end of the world. No one notices. No one cares. Alec’s just sitting here, with all of his friends, snuggled up with his boyfriend.

And everything’s fine.

Well. Better than fine. Distinctly better than fine.

Alec’s never been one for movie marathons. Ones where nothing else happens, and the _only_ thing that anyone does is watch movies. Even if he loves the movies, the act (or lack thereof) of sitting in one spot and quietly watching a screen for hours on end just doesn’t fit with his constitution. It’s how it’s always been. He needs to do something else. Talk, or move around, or get food, or something. Anything. If not, he eventually just… shuts down.

And it certainly doesn’t help that by the time the screen is filled with tiny little Ewoks, it's like, two in the morning. Alec had a long day. He doesn’t usually stay up this late.

Everyone’s shifted gradually throughout the night. The floor must have stopped being comfortable a few hours ago, because now they've all migrated to the couch. And because this couch is so _stupidly_ big, everyone’s spread out. A lot.

Except Alec and Magnus.

Well, sort of. Alec’s technically stretched out a lot more than he has been. But he hasn’t gone anywhere. He’s just shifted down a bit, so his legs are on the footrest and his feet are dangling off the end. It’s not exactly dignified…

But it means he can lie down. With his head in Magnus’s lap.

It’s noticeable. Everyone’s noticed.

No one cares.

Except Alec. Alec cares. Alec cares a _lot_ that he’s lying on this comfy couch, with pretty much everyone he cares about, struggling to keep his eyes open as Simon rattles off some sort of tidbit about the costumes or the scenery or the fight choreography or _something,_  fighting so hard to stay awake…

With his head snuggled in Magnus’s lap. With Magnus’s fingers gently running through his hair.

And with that stupid feeling swirling around in his stomach. That one that keeps trying to call itself love. Even though it’s not. Alec knows it’s not. He thinks it’s not. He’s pretty sure it’s not.

Magnus’s hand slips down from Alec’s hair to his face. He runs the backs of his fingers across Alec’s cheek. Slowly. Softly.

Alec takes a breath.

It might be.

  


“Why aren’t you in that meeting?”

“Hasn’t started yet,” Alec replies automatically. Or at least, he hopes he does. Honestly, he’s paying so little attention that he’s not entirely sure who’s talking to him. He was alone a second ago.

“It starts in like, five minutes. Aren’t you usually there half an hour early? You’re super late by your standards.”

Ah. It’s Isabelle.

But Alec still refuses to look over. To look away. “I’ll be there before it starts.”

Isabelle starts making a noise that sounds fairly incredulous…

But then it changes. To a patronizing little “Ahhhh.” And she puts a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a little pathetic. You know that, right?”

Alec smirks. “I have my reasons.”

Isabelle scoffs in a way that makes it clear that she’s rolling her eyes. “Have fun.”

Alec hears her heels click away from him. But he still doesn’t look.

He’s not gonna look away from this. He wouldn’t look away from this if his life depended on it.

This is the best thing he’s ever seen. He suspects it’s the best thing he’ll _ever_ see.

They're in the next room. Robert, Maryse, and Magnus. Alec is watching them through the glass door. They’re standing at an angle that doesn’t _really_ put Alec in their line of sight. Magnus’s back is to him, but Robert and Maryse could probably see him if they’d actually look.

But they’re not looking.

Alec’s smirk breaks open into a stupid smile.

Robert is looking at the floor. Alec’s pretty sure his eyes must have bored a hole into it by now. He hasn’t looked up. Not once. His lips are pressed together, like he’s chewing the insides of them. His hands are tugging at the bottoms of his sleeves. Over and over again.

Alec doesn’t think he’s ever seen him looked embarrassed before. Not like this, anyway. Fuck, he looks like he wants nothing more than for the floor to swallow him up. He looks like he’s longing for the sweet release of death.

And Maryse-

Alec almost laughs.

She’s bright red. Bright, burning red. Her eyes are a bit wide, and locked on Magnus. Honestly, if they started literally twitching with rage, Alec wouldn’t be surprised. Her mouth is tight, the way it gets when she has a million different things she wants to be shouting, but can’t decide which one to start with. Her arms are crossed, and Alec can see how hard she’s pressing her fingertips into her skin. She looks like she’s gonna explode. Any second. They could be just _moments_ away from the best meltdown Maryse has ever had.

Alec puts a hand to his mouth. They haven’t noticed him yet, but he thinks they _might_ catch onto his presence if he bursts out laughing right outside the door. After all, he may not be able to hear what Magnus is saying, but he can still tell that he’s talking. It's not like the door is soundproof. His voice is muffled, but audible.

And sometimes, he gestures. Only ever with one hand. Loose, graceful movements and waves that Alec just knows are timed _perfectly_ with his words. Magnus always gets like this when there’s Serious Business happening.

And this is _very_ Serious Business. Except for-

“Hey, Raj is looking for you.”

Alec didn’t notice Jace walking up to him, but suddenly he’s right at Alec’s shoulder.

Goddammit, doesn’t anyone in this Institute wear a goddamn watch?

“It’s not for five more minutes.”

“Huh?”

“The meeting,” Alec says absently, still refusing to take _any_ of his focus away from the spectacle in front of him. “It’s why Raj is looking for me. We’re meeting with Luke. But I have five more minutes.”

“Ah, right. So you’re just gonna… stand here? Until then?”

Alec slips his hands into his back pockets. “Yup.”

“Yeah. That’s… totally normal. Not weird at- is that Magnus?”

Alec’s smile twists back into a smirk. “Yup.”

“I thought his job here was like, three days ago.”

“It was. Turns out he didn’t get paid on time.”

Jace scoffs. “Shocking.”

And he doesn’t say anything else. For a few moments, anyway. Alec’s not sure what he’s doing, but he sure as fuck doesn’t care.

Robert still hasn’t looked up from the floor.

Alec hadn’t thought it was possible, but it looks like Maryse might be getting even redder.

Magnus tilts his head to the side.

Maryse clenches her jaw. By the Angel, it looks like she might give up on the pretense and just start shrieking with inarticulate fury.

“Okay, you’re _really_ just gonna stand here and stare at the back of his head for five minutes?”

Alec chuckles. “Yuuuuup.” He pops the ‘p’ a bit more than necessary.

“Dude, you’ve been dating for like, what, ten months? You’ve never seen the back of his head?” Jace sounds genuinely confused, and maybe a little… teasing? Whatever it is, he definitely thinks Alec should be better than this. That’s obvious.

Alec doesn’t feel like coming up with an excuse. So he just says “I have my reasons,” even though he’d already said that to Isabelle. It sounds vaguely sinister to say that to two different people in a ninety-second span.

“Sure. So… yeah.” Jace takes a few steps back. “Enjoy, I guess.”

And he’s gone.

So it’s just Alec.

And what he’s seeing. What he’s getting to see. What he never thought he’d _ever_ have the chance to see. Ever. It’s too good to be true.

Magnus makes another gesture. It’s a bit… _bigger_ than the rest of them, somehow. It looks more final.

Apparently, it _was_ final, because he turns to leave.

Alec’s stomach ties up so goddamn fast that it actually makes him laugh a bit. There’s a knot in his stomach, butterflies in his chest, a tingle in his palms. It’s all of it. All at once.

Magnus opens the door. Sees Alec.

Pretends he didn’t know Alec was watching the entire time.

“Alexander! Fancy running into you here.”

It takes every bit of restraint Alec has to keep himself from laughing.

He’s already seen Magnus once today. He’d spent the night at the loft. He’d watched Magnus get ready for the day. He’d watched Magnus button up a _ridiculously_ small number of the buttons on his already low-cut shirt. He’d watched Magnus put on what must be half a dozen necklaces, drawing attention to his exposed chest. And neck.

His neck.

Alec grins. He can’t help himself.

Seven. Alec counted them carefully.

There are seven hickeys on Magnus’s neck.

(Well, six and a half, technically. Alec had kinda experimented with sucking one onto Magnus’s jaw, but Magnus wasn’t really into it, so it’s just a slight reddish spot. It’s not a good hickey. Not like the rest of them.)

They’re just…

They’re _so_ visible. Alec knew they were. He’d seen Magnus get dressed. He’d seen Magnus specifically make sure that his outfit didn’t cover any of them.

It’s more than just being visible. They’re on display. For everyone to see.

For Robert and Maryse to see.

A little snort of laughter gets away from him. But he can’t make himself care.

Seven hickeys. Seven dark, splotchy, messy, _obvious_ hickeys. Right on his neck. Perfectly framed by his necklaces.

By the Angel, he’s even wearing dark purple makeup. It’s like he planned his goddamn color scheme _around_ the hickeys. Specifically to draw attention. To accentuate them.

Alec’s blood sort of… lurches. In a bunch of different directions. Some to his face, because of the way Magnus is looking at him. Some to his heart, since it’s beating so much harder than it needs to be. Some, unfortunately, to his dick, because-

Fuck.

It’s not like he can just… _not_ think about it. He can’t see all the bruises he’d sucked onto Magnus’s throat last night and not remember… how. When. _Where._

These aren’t the only hickeys. He’d left a few more. They’re just not visible.

They’re on Magnus’s hip. His pelvis. Alec gave Magnus those hickeys when he was on his knees. His hands twisted into Magnus’s shirt. His mouth around Magnus’s cock. Whenever he had to stop for a moment - when he’d needed to catch his breath, when he’d needed to rest his jaw, when he’d needed to draw it out further because he didn’t want Magnus to finish yet - he sucked a few more hickeys. He'd sucked hickeys, and he'd sucked Magnus's cock. Until Magnus came, right on his face. It was only after all of  _that_ happened that he'd done the ones on Magnus's neck.

The ones on his neck-

Alec takes a deep breath. It shakes in his lungs.

He’d been fucking him.

He’d been inside Magnus, while he was sucking bruises onto his neck. Magnus pulling at his hair. One of Magnus’s legs hooked over his arm. The sharp crackle of magic, sparking out of Magnus’s fingers and right into Alec’s blood.

By the Angel, the _sounds_ Magnus had made-

A shiver runs down Alec’s spine.

Fucking _fuck,_ he needs to stop thinking about it.

“Unfortunately, I can’t stay,” Magnus says in a sarcastically mournful voice. After all, Alec already knows that. They’d talked before he came here. “Just stopping by.”

Alec opens his mouth to speak.

And he stutters out a full sentence’s worth of gibberish.

Godfuckingdammit, he _knew_ this was going to happen. He knew Magnus was going to be here. He knew Magnus was going to talk to his parents. He knew Magnus was going to look like _this_ when he did it. Yeah, it was Magnus’s idea, but he’d made sure Alec was alright with it. And then he’d checked again. And again. And again.

Alec should have been prepared for this.

“There’s- uh.” Alec scratches the back of his neck. “I have to get to a meeting.” And he points, uselessly, down the hall. Like he needs to show _where_ the meeting is.

Magnus just smiles at him. “Well, then.” He tilts his head (and honestly, it’s just _mean,_ because it emphasizes the hickeys even more). “Will I see you tonight?”

Alec’s not really sure if ‘see’ is the right word, since he’s not gonna be able to make it to the loft until after Magnus has passed out for the night. But he gets the idea. “Yeah.”

“Wonderful,” Magnus says, like he really means it.

And he raises his eyebrows. Quickly. Like a little… like it’s a goodbye, somehow. A distinctly _flirty_ little goodbye. “Love you,” he adds quietly.

Alec’s heart beats hard against his ribcage. Just once. One strong, overwhelming beat. “Love you too.”

He watches Magnus walk away. Literally keeps his eyes on him as long as he can. Until he turns a corner, and disappears completely.

Alec bites his lip, and looks back at-

Oh.

They’re looking at him.

Robert looks away the moment Alec makes eye contact. But Maryse keeps looking. Her expression hasn’t changed at all since Magnus left. She looks every bit as livid as she has since she first saw Magnus. First got a good look at him. First realized.

Alec…

Smiles at her.

He lifts his chin, but still tries to keep himself from looking too _obviously_ smug. Triumphant.

Maryse opens her mouth. Alec can’t tell if she’s just taking a breath, or if she’s about to say something.

And he doesn’t find out.

He just turns, and walks away. After all, he’s got a meeting starting soon.

Hm. He hopes he can get this stupid grin off of his face before it starts.

Somehow, he thinks it’s pretty unlikely.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magnus Bane is a fucking nerd who loves Star Wars. This is a fact.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, it’s a very nice image.  
> Coming here, coming home. With someone already here. Waiting for him. Someone waiting to see him.  
> Someone wanting to see him.

Never again.

Never. Again.

_Never again._

Magnus may as well tattoo the words on the inside of his eyelids, with how much he’s been repeating them.

Honestly, he should have fucking known better. He’s been working for damn near four centuries. And in those four centuries, there’s one type of client that has _always_ been more trouble than they’re worth. Rich, white, mundane men. Magnus has worked with more of them than he can count (because, well, money), and every single one of them has been a pain in the ass. A goddamn pain in the ass.

But for whatever reason, he keeps letting the amount of zeroes in his quotes outweigh his better judgement. Because he keeps taking the jobs. And they keep being horrible.

But this time has outdone them all.

This time, he didn’t even get _paid._

Fucking disaster.

He knew this particular mundane was going to cause him even more trouble than usual. So rude. So impatient. So convinced that he could be as much of a dick to Magnus as he wanted. As though the services of a High Warlock were something he could find anywhere. As though he’s allowed to be picky with no consequences.

Magnus should have fucking known better.

It’s probably because there are so few _good_ ways for mundanes to find out about warlocks in the first place. It’s almost always something shady. They bought their way in, or they were claimed as a human pet by a downworlder, or they watched too many ghost hunter shows and deluded themselves so hard into believing that it actually fucked with their perception of reality.

With this particular man, Magnus thinks it might have been all of those methods combined.

He should have known better. A generic white man in a stupidly expensive suit suddenly tracks him down and says he wants to ‘ _become_ ’ a faerie.

Fuck. It’s not even that there were red flags on the situation. The entire situation was just one giant red flag, smacking Magnus in the face.

If only Magnus hadn’t been so blinded by money goggles.

It was the perfect crime, really. All Magnus had to do was whip up some pointed ears for him, cash his check, and sit back while the _actual_ faeries undoubtedly took care of the delusional idiot themselves.

Magnus sighs. He’s still mourning the loss of that potential payment. He should have come home from this job with a check for fifty _thousand_ dollars (because a mundane idiot doesn’t know he’s being overcharged, and that’s hardly Magnus’s fault).

And instead, he’s walking home empty-handed. After a very heated argument, and a brief scuffle with a small wild animal.

God, Magnus should have run the other way the second he saw that stupid fox. On a leash. As if it wasn’t already suspicious enough that Mr. Willis wanted to meet in a park because he feels ‘connected with nature’. He actually wrestled a leash onto a goddamn fox to prove that he had an animal ‘familiar’. Like he thinks you identify a faerie the same way they identified witches in the dark ages.

Magnus takes another deep breath.

It’s over now. Nothing to be done. No point in letting the experience… linger.

At least it’s a nice night. Nice enough that he’d portaled himself a dozen blocks away from home. Just for the walk. After all, he’s already going to be there several _hours_ ahead of schedule. Several hours before he’s expected.

He smiles to himself.

Apart from the _massive_ financial disappointment, he supposes he can’t really call the evening an entire failure. He may have been looking forward to the payday, but he’s certainly not going to complain about suddenly having his evening clear up.

He feels more and more at peace with the situation with each step on the several flights up to his door - which is really saying something, since he almost _never_ makes himself actually climb the goddamn stairs, especially not after walking more than a few blocks. It’s so much more convenient to just… appear. On the correct floor. Spare himself the trouble.

But the literal change of pace is actually quite nice. After all, when he takes the stairs these days, he’s usually a little less _alone_ than he is now. The solitude allows for an interesting perspective.

And now - as always - that little thought flits into his head. As he goes up step after step of the splintered, creaking, uneven stairs. With the lips that stick out too far over the step. The harsh, unsanded edges. The rather un-ergonomical banister, made even worse by the fact that the stairs are really more narrow than common courtesy should allow. These stairs are a goddamn clusterfuck.

So Magnus wonders how much it would hurt to fall down a flight of them. Backwards.

He presses his lips together. Tries not to laugh. It really _shouldn’t_ be a laughing matter.

But hell, that’s never stopped him. Half a year later, and that memory is just as charming as ever.

He reaches the landing on his floor.

He takes three steps, and pauses just a moment before the fourth-

And he hears skittering, scrambling from the other side of the wall.

Always on the fourth step. Honestly, Chairman Meow is _horribly_ predictable.

After walking all this way like some sort of normal person, Magnus doesn’t have the patience to use his actual _hand_ to open the door, so he just swishes it open. He barely has to wiggle his pinky to make it happen.

And he makes sure it closes behind him _immediately._ The moment he crosses the threshold.

It’s still barely fast enough to keep the Chairman from running out to freedom.

Faced with a closed door, the Chairman changes tactics quickly, and attempts to wrestle himself inside Magnus’s oxfords. He seems to instinctively know that the laces are the weak point, because he tries his best to devour them, even as Magnus tries to kick him away as gently as possible.

“No, Chairman, you may not eat my shoes.”

Apparently, the struggle isn’t worth it. Because the Chairman gives up rather easily, and gives all of his fighting energy to the other pair of shoes in the entryway.

Magnus smiles.

The other pair of shoes.

He can’t remember the last time he came home to an empty pair shoes. Or, in this case, an empty pair of rather hideous boots (honestly, they look like they might have come out of a Generic Clothing vending machine. Magnus wouldn’t be surprised if the Institute actually had something like that. It’d probably be in Alexander’s closet. Actually, it’d probably be the _only_ thing in Alexander’s closet).

It’s a small detail. In the grand scheme of the loft, it’s hardly noticeable. Just a pair of boots, next to the door. As far as Magnus can tell, Alec probably set them aside nicely, taking up as little space as possible, perfectly side-by-side, probably even with the laces tucked inside them. And then Chairman Meow happened. Because now they’re strewn haphazardly on the floor, with the laces pulled out and the tongues looking like they’re trying to escape.

Yes. Somehow, it’s a very nice image.

Coming here, coming home. With someone already here. Waiting for him. Someone waiting to see him.

Someone wanting to see him.

Someone to deal with the Chairman’s first burst of energy after a day spent home alone. Someone to make sure everything's in order. Someone to turn on the lights-

Hm. The lights.

Now that he thinks about it, there are suspiciously _few_ lights on. The sun is still in the end-process of setting, so there’s a tiny bit of glow from the windows, but it’s not much. It’s not enough, really. But Alec didn’t turn on the lights. The only light is coming from the bedroom.

It’s not exactly what Magnus expected.

“Alexander? Are you here?” Magnus calls as he absentmindedly slips out of his shoes and jacket. He doesn’t really know what Alec would be doing in the bedroom right now, but it seems only polite to make sure he knows that he’s not alone anymore. Magnus is home so early he can’t imagine Alexander’s been here very long. He couldn’t have gotten himself into _too_ much trouble, could he?

Honestly, if he couldn’t even bring himself to turn on the lights in the living room, Magnus _highly_ doubts that he’s been doing much of anything at all.

“Yeah-” comes the response from…

Well, it must be from the bedroom. But it sounds strange, somehow. Muffled. “Y-yeah,” Alec repeats after a moment, in that same odd tone, “I’m in here, I just- I w-” A slight pause. “I’m getting dressed. I… I j-just got out of the shower.”

Hm. Well that’s _certainly_ not what Magnus expected.

But, oddly enough, he thinks it’s rather nice. Alexander coming over by himself, using his key to let himself in, leaving his shoes by the door, and taking a shower. It’s so horribly domestic of him. Comfortable.

Well, after six months, it’s about damn time he starts feeling comfortable here. Still, Magnus sort of wishes the very thought of it didn’t bring _quite_ so much giddiness to his stomach.

He should say something.

No, he shouldn’t.

But he wants to - which basically means he’s going to, regardless of whether he should.

Nothing serious. Nothing big. Nothing that could possibly scare Alexander off or make him uncomfortable. Just a little joke. Not even a joke. Something honest, just in a teasing way. He’s confident that he can walk that line pretty damn well.

Just a little comment. A little, off-hand comment about how goddamn pleasant it is to come home to a freshly-showered boyfriend, making himself at home in this place that Magnus wants so _badly_ to feel like home to him.

‘Honey, I’m home’ is probably a little too on the nose. ‘Welcome home’ sounds simultaneously too vague and too intense. ‘I missed you’ is too…

Well. Magnus supposes it’s just too honest.

But he’s walking into the closet now, so it looks like he doesn’t have any better options. Honesty it’ll have to be, not matter how pathetic it makes him sound-

“Oh, goodness.”

He steps into the closet. And he’s reminded, rather vividly, that he hadn’t cleaned up before running out to his disappointing meeting.

Hm.

Fuck.

The closet looks like a war zone. It’s never supposed to look like this when someone else is here. People aren’t supposed to just _see_ something like this. Magnus isn’t necessarily bothered by it, since it’s Alexander, but still.

“Well, this is embarrassing,” he says as lightly as possible, hoping to play off the fact that it actually _is_ embarrassing. God, four hundred years old and he can’t even put away his damn clothes. Toddlers are probably held to higher standards than him.

Luckily, he knows this closet backwards, forwards, inside, out, and all the rest of it. So it only takes the slightest bit of energy to get everything scooting back where it belongs. He’s done this enough times that he barely even has to think about it. Everything just sort of… responds to him, like-

Oh.

There's…

Odd. There’s a tiny bit of a… catch. Like something’s not quite doing what it's meant to be doing. Something’s giving his magic a… tug. Resistance.

But after a brief, blue moment, everything settles. And it certainly _looks_ like it’s all in order.

Well, probably nothing to worry about, then. He might find a belt on his tie rack in a week or two, but that’s hardly anything to fret about.

Especially not at a time like this.

Right now, there’s something _much_ more important that requires Magnus’s immediate attention. All of it. Every last shred of his focus.

Alexander’s hair is messy, like he toweled it off and then forgot that there’s anything _else_ that he’s supposed to do to it. His skin is a little pink. No doubt he scalded himself with hot water again (honestly, Magnus had thought _he_ liked unreasonably hot showers, but goddamn, Alexander’s water preferences could probably steep a nice pu erh tea).

And he’s just… standing here. In Magnus’s closet. In Magnus’s home.

Magnus smiles.

It’s such a nice image.

“You’re home early,” Alec says, rather abruptly.

Well, that may not be exactly the type of greeting Magnus had hoped for. But he supposes it’s accurate, at least.

Maybe he should have sent a text to say he was on his way back. He’d considered it. He genuinely doesn’t know why he chose not to. Maybe his romantic side hadn’t been able to resist this little surprise - however trivial it may be. But Alexander looks rather startled by his sudden presence, so maybe that was a mistake.

“Would you believe it: the Wall Street millionaire didn’t like my prices.” Magnus _really_ doesn’t feel like getting into the whole grueling process, but he figures Alec should at least get a half-decent summary.

After all, Magnus isn’t really paying attention to what he’s saying. He knows he’s talking, but his brain has already completely switched gears.

Because Alexander is too goddamn fucking _cute._ With his fucked up hair and his horrible clothes and that hint of just-showered warmth and the little _look_ on his face. His eyes a little wide, his face a little red, everything about him a little softer and warmer than usual. Honestly, while he certainly looks _spectacular_ while he’s actually in the shower, Magnus thinks he prefers this look. The aftermath. It’s so horrifically inviting. How he looks, how he feels, and-

Of course.

How he smells.

In the confined space of the closet, Magnus can smell it from here. Sandalwood.

God, he _loves_ when Alexander smells like sandalwood.

And it’s not just because he likes smelling his favorite scent on his favorite person. Yes, that symmetry is quite pleasant, but that’s not all of it. That’s not the biggest part of it.

Alec only smells like sandalwood when he showers here. It means he’s been here, long enough to shower. It means he was comfortable enough to take a shower here. And the scent, even though it’s such a small touch, is almost like… like he’s keeping it with him. Taking some small hint of Magnus’s home. Taking it with him when he leaves. Saving it.

Also, on a much _simpler_ level, Magnus likes knowing that Alexander is taking care of himself. It’s quite painfully obvious that Magnus’s shower products are of a significantly higher quality than whatever Alec has at the Institute. When he smells like sandalwood, it means he’s used something good, something that’s actually _good_ for his body. When he showers at the Institute, he smells like cheap dish soap. Harsh chemicals and astringents and something so _generic_ and yet unplaceable. Magnus highly suspects that it’s some sort of all-in-one monstrosity from a shady dollar store.

When he showers here, everything is nicer. He smells better. His hair is softer. His skin is smoother. It’s just a regular shower, but by Alexander’s standards, it’s unfortunately akin to a spa day.

And it is absolutely irresistible. Magnus doesn’t think he could keep himself from moving in toward Alec if his life depended on it.

Of course, the very moment Magnus gets his arms around Alexander, his body decides to send him an onslaught of reminders of how much he’s missed him. It’s cruel, and completely unnecessary. Magnus is _well_ aware of how much he’s missed getting to see Alec, even without his mind attacking him with reminders of how alone he’s been for the past few weeks.

It’s ridiculously unfair. It’s _outrageously_ unfair. It’s only been a few weeks. That’s hardly newsworthy for them.

The only difference is that this time, the really haven’t seen each other. At all. Normally, when they go a week or two without getting to have a half-decent date, Alexander will still spend the night more often than not. Ever since the first time he’d stayed over, he’s been making a rather nice habit of it. And while a half-hearted kiss in the middle of the night and a sleep-mumbled conversation in the morning don’t _really_ count as interaction (certainly not as much interaction as Magnus wants, anyway), it’s still something.

And this time, they haven’t had that. Magnus has been out of town. Out of the country, once or twice. Alec has been working overnight shifts. Their nights haven’t synced up since the last time Alec was actually here for a date.

Magnus takes a deep breath, savoring the way his face fits so perfectly against Alexander’s neck.

Their last date.

Honestly, the universe is just _cruel_ to keep them apart for so long, after a night like that.

“It feels like I haven’t seen you in _weeks._ ” Honestly, Magnus should probably be somewhat embarrassed by his overt desperation, but he just can’t bring himself to care. Because he’s pulling Alec to him as firmly as he possibly can, and Alec is wrapping his arms around him, and _fuck,_ it’s almost too nice to bear.

“That’s probably because you haven’t,” Alexander says lightly, almost playfully? It usually takes a little while for him to relax enough to really get playful, but he sounds like he might be warming up to it.

It’s too much. It’s too wonderful. Magnus can _feel_ Alexander’s throat move as he speaks. His body is still a little too warm from the shower. His skin is so soft. He smells like sandalwood.

To tell the truth, Magnus doesn’t know how he’s restrained himself for this long.

He just barely manages to choke out, “I suppose that makes sense,” before he gives in. While it’s somewhat tempting to skip any pretense and wrestle them both down to the floor, he figures that’s probably a _bit_ too forward of him. So he just kisses Alec’s neck instead.

And good _god,_ the sound that Alexander makes in response sends Magnus’s blood rushing to his dick so fast, it actually makes his knees feel weak.

It’s been too long. Far too long.

In many ways, really. It’s been far too long since Alexander was here. It’s been far too long since Magnus felt Alexander clutch at his clothing like this, like he wants to pull him closer. It’s been far too long since Magnus got to scratch his nails down Alexander's back.

But more than that, it’s been too long since Magnus had _that_. In particular. What they’d finally done, the last time Alec was here. It’s been far too long since Magnus has been fucked.

And by someone like Alexander, no less. Someone so nervous, and careful, and embarrassed, and loving. More than anything else, loving. It had been absolutely amazing.

All thirty seconds of it.

Magnus smiles against Alec’s throat.

It’s not like he has no self control. After all these years, he knows damn well that he has _excellent_ self control.

But for some reason, with Alexander finally here again, with his mouth on Alexander’s skin, it’s like it’s all he can think about. They have the whole night ahead of them, after all. Longer than they’d originally anticipated (and the amount of time they’d planned to have together was already longer than usual, even before Magnus unexpectedly had a few extra hours given to him). And all Magnus wants is for it to happen again. Any of it, really. But particularly that.

He wants Alexander to fuck him again. God, he wants it. He wants it so much that he can’t even bring himself to care about the fact that they’ve barely said ‘hello’, and he’s quite _literally_ trying to get into Alec’s pants-

“ _Magnus_.”

Alec steps back suddenly, wrenching himself out of Magnus’s reach. He backs up to the mirror.

Like he’s trying to pull Magnus further into the room. Like he wants Magnus to press him up against the mirror.

Well, Magnus certainly isn’t going to object.

“Alec,” Magnus steps in toward him, more than willing to play along.

Now, where was he?

Magnus can’t quite keep himself from smirking as he gets his hands on the front of Alec’s jeans. It’s been too long. It’s been _too damn long-_

“Magnus,” Alec shoves at Magnus’s hands, “no-”

What-

Oh. Shit.

Fuck.

_Fuck._

How the fuck did Magnus let himself get this far without noticing the tension in Alec’s body? How his face has completely drained of color? The absolute panic in his eyes?

So focused on his goddamn cock, he didn’t even notice that Alexander looks downright _sick_ with fear.

Fucking hell, what is Magnus’s problem? Coming in here and groping Alec before even seeing if he’s interested?

Magnus steps away. Lets Alec have some distance between them (because now it’s so painfully _obvious_ that that’s what he wanted in the first place, and how the fuck did Magnus not see that?). “Is everything alright, Alexander?”

He can see Alec swallow. He can see it run through his body, like a tremor, shooting from his throat to his hand, which shakes at his side. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

It’s a lie. It’s blatantly a lie. Alec’s not good at lying.

Fuck.

What could have happened? They’d talked a few hours ago. Alec was still at the Institute, but there was nothing unusual about it. Magnus supposes the Institute has always been a minefield of opportunities for Alexander to have a sudden breakdown, but even then, he usually tells Magnus about things like that right away. He doesn’t know why Alec has made it this far, trying to pretend he’s alright.

He doesn’t understand.

And he’s not used to not understanding.

“Darling, it’s obviously not nothing.” Magnus wants to step in toward him, but space is clearly important right now. Still, he feels like he needs to give Alec _something_ , some physical proof that he’s invested. “Please tell me what's wrong.” He holds out his hand, hoping it’s subtle enough to not seem forceful, but still enough to be a clear gesture.

And Alec-

Pulls back. Flinches.

Flinches away from Magnus. From his touch.

It’s…

Magnus’s breath leaves him.

It’s something he’s seen before. Countless times. From countless people. Countless shadowhunters.

But never Alec.

Magnus recoils his hand. Forces himself to breathe.

There must be something going on. It’s not… it’s not what it looked like. It can’t be. Something else must be happening. Something Magnus doesn’t know about. There must be some explanation. Because Alec can’t have just-

“I’m sorry.”

Alec says it suddenly. Practically chokes it out. His face twists up. His eyebrows pull together. Magnus had thought his face was completely drained of color before, but apparently there was still a little hint of hue left, because it’s disappearing quickly. His face is pale enough to be lifeless. His breathing is visibly uneven. His hand starts trembling so much it almost looks like he’s flapping it against his hip.

None of this makes sense.

“I’m sorry, I- I took a shower and then I came in here to get my clothes and everything was everywhere and I found-” he sucks in a breath that sounds like it could be the precursor to a sob. “It was just on the floor and I _know_ I should have just left it. I wasn’t trying to dig around in your stuff, I promise, I was just… looking. And I saw…” His eyes squeeze shut. “And I put it on, and I shouldn’t have.” His eyes snap open again. “I know I shouldn’t have, I know, and I’m sorry, Magnus, I’m so sorry.”

Magnus…

He wishes he could rewind the last few seconds of his life, so he could hear that again. Slow it down. Give himself enough time to process it.

But he can’t. And he doesn’t have time. He obviously doesn’t have time to think through whatever this is, because Alec-

Alec looks terrified.

He’s standing in Magnus’s closet, on a nice night, after taking a nice shower, about to have a nice dinner…

And he’s _terrified._

And he’s… apologizing? Not for the shower, but for being in here? Looking? No, _finding._ He said he’d found. And put on.

And Magnus’s clothes had been everywhere. All of his clothes. He vaguely remembers tossing an entire drawer onto the carpet. One of his bigger drawers. His-

Oh.

Alec put on something of Magnus’s. And he’s clearly not wearing anything of Magnus’s right now.

Not anything Magnus can see.

Something in Magnus… settles.

Which should be a terrible reaction, really, since Alexander looks like he’s a heartbeat away from one of his more intense panic attacks.

But now, Magnus thinks he knows why. And he’s always found so much comfort in knowing.

He takes a step toward Alec. Just one.

Alec isn’t going to say anything else. That’s obvious. From the look on his face, Magnus isn’t sure he’s physically capable of saying anything else. Which means it’s not going to do anyone any damn good to try and get more answers out of him. He’s clearly not comfortable talking about this. He’s not comfortable with _anything_ right now. He’s not even comfortable with Magnus-

No. That’s not the point. This is something else. This is… Magnus still isn’t sure what this is. But he needs to find out.

“May I?”

He glances up at Alexander’s face. It’s only then that he realizes he’s been staring at his crotch this whole time. God, a little surprise like this shouldn’t be enough to erase any semblance of decency. He needs to pull himself together.

Alec still looks… miserable. The color has come back to his face, in the form of a blush so intense it looks downright _painful._ And he’s not looking at Magnus. He’s looking anywhere but at Magnus.

But he nods. Weakly. Without a hint of enthusiasm, or even sincerity.

And all Magnus can do is trust that Alec would be honest. That if he really couldn’t bear this, he’d tell Magnus as much.

So he touches his hand to Alec’s jeans. Gives him a moment to feel Magnus’s hand there, to know what he’s about to do.

He could still be wrong. Magnus could have the situation _entirely_ wrong. He’s operating entirely on assumption right now. Alexander sure isn’t doing anything to give him concrete answers. Yes, Magnus honestly can’t think of any other explanation for this situation, but still. Alexander has always been able to surprise him. So he tries to stop guessing. Tries to keep an open mind about what he might find. And he slips his finger into Alec’s jeans. As little as possible. Trailing down his hip, just far enough to feel-

Lace.

Magnus hums.

Alexander has always liked lace.

This could be it. This is enough. There’s nothing ambiguous about this. It’s not as though Alec has a shred of lace in his own possession. Magnus knows enough now. He knows what’s happening.

But he still doesn’t understand.

“Can I see?”

It’s too much. Magnus knows it’s too much. It’s _obviously_ too much. He’s pushing too hard. Harder than he needs to.

And Alec’s whole body is shaking now. Even though his skin is burning hot, it’s still prickling under Magnus’s finger. So Magnus knows Alec is going to say it’s too much. He’s going to stop this. He-

He nods.

Magnus looks up again.

Alexander’s jaw is trembling so much his teeth are probably chattering. His lips are pressed so tight that they’ve disappeared. And his eyes…

His eyes are wet.

It’s getting difficult for Magnus to breathe. He can’t handle something like this. He can’t handle seeing Alec like this. “Alec, you can say no.”

But Alec must not agree with him. Because with tense, fumbling hands, he unbuttons his jeans. Tugs down the fly.

His jeans are fairly high-waisted. And whatever he’s wearing underneath is distinctly _not._ So even with the front of the pants hanging open, Magnus still can’t really see. And while he’s so terribly aware of the delicacy of this situation, his goddamn curiosity is getting the better of him. It’s not as though a tiny touch of lace is enough to tell him _exactly_ what Alec’s wearing. Magnus owns a lot of lace, after all. And he wants to know which lace this is.

He wants to see.

Alexander looks ready to break at any second.

There’s no point in drawing this out.

Magnus tugs down Alec’s jeans. Just a little. Just so he can see enough to recognize…

_Oh._

Magnus sees the little ribbon bow. The pink lace. And on his hips, trailing back, a bit of satin.

And against all reason, Magnus is flooded with a sudden sense of… fondness. Warmth.

This pair. These panties.

Magnus wonders if Alexander remembers. If he just picked them up because they’re particularly pretty, or if he actually remembers. After all, he’s seen them before. A few times.

The first time he’d spent the night. The very first time they’d slept together.

A week or two after that. The first time he had quietly, shyly, nervously asked if he could try giving Magnus a blowjob. These were the panties he’d pulled down, so slowly. Too slowly. Breathing too heavily. Asking too many questions. Making too many apologies, before he’d even started.

And times after that, Magnus is certain. He wears these a lot. He’s always liked them. And he’s liked them even more since he noticed that Alexander likes them. Magnus has always been able to tell. A little look in Alec’s eyes. A little quirk of his mouth. A little extra care in the way he touches the lace. Magnus has always recognized his interest in these panties.

But now, he sees that he’s been underestimating Alexander’s interest. Misinterpreting _why_ he’s always looked at them that way.

It’s such a beautiful color on him. Magnus has always thought purple would look the best on Alexander (in his fantasy world where Alexander actually wears _colors_ ). But apparently, he needs to give pink another chance. It’s such an _unbearably_ gorgeous contrast. His skin, perfectly accented with the dark hair beneath his navel… and delicate pink lace. It looks unexpected, but also so terribly _right._ Like Alexander spent ages picking these out. Like the lace was dyed specifically for him. Like they were designed just for him, not scavenged off of the floor of someone else’s closet.

Except-

“You need a different size,” Magnus says quietly.

“What?”

Magnus doesn’t look up. “The fit is acceptable, of course, but you can tell it’s not _quite_ right.” Magnus may have an odd habit of slipping into Alexander’s sweatpants when he’s feeling lonely, but that doesn’t mean they actually _should_ wear each other’s sizes. After all, there’s a significant difference between worn, shapeless sweatpants (which Magnus has to roll up a few times at the waist so they don’t trail down past his feet), and something like this. Something small, and delicate, and meant to fit better than basically any other piece of clothing. And while lace is somewhat forgiving, shape-wise, there’s no hiding the fact that Alexander’s white-boy ass isn’t going to fill out the satin in the back the way it's supposed to. Yes, by Alec’s standards, he probably thinks these ‘fit’ him just fine. But Magnus is still convinced that he’s never had a piece of clothing properly fit to his body in his entire life.

“Magnus-”

“Alexander,” Magnus says automatically. Because he’s not ready to fight this yet. Alec’s voice is still weak. He’s still shivering a bit. He’s clearly still horrified about the situation.

And Magnus can’t deal with that. Not yet. Not for a few more moments. He needs a bit more time. To look. To touch. To savor how devastatingly beautiful Alexander looks right now, without having to defend that beauty to him. He’s not ready to hear Alec hate himself. He wants to put that off, as long as he can.

Magnus has never been in this situation before. He’s never seen someone else wear his lingerie. It’s…

Well. He thinks it’s bad enough when Alexander uses his shampoo. Sleeps between his sheets. Now he’s wearing Magnus’s clothes. Wearing his _lingerie._ Wearing his lace, his satin. Slipping himself into something that Magnus always feels so beautiful in.

Magnus loves these panties. He loves how they look on him. He loves how they make him feel.

And now…

“ _Look_ at you,” he says, though his voice feels somewhat weaker than it should.

Magnus touches the panties. It’s almost… strange. Feeling this lace, but with Alexander’s skin underneath it. It’s like his hands are aware that this isn’t how these panties usually feel. How Alexander’s hips usually feel.

Alec isn’t speaking. Magnus isn’t completely sure he’s even breathing.

Magnus touches the panties for another moment.

Alright.

They have to deal with this eventually. Whatever this is. Magnus can hardly pretend that it’s no big deal, not when Alexander is _this_ shaken by it. He has to do something.

“You could have said something sooner,” Magnus offers, trying to make sure it’s as clear as possible that Alec hasn’t done anything wrong. Making sure Alec _knows_ he hasn’t done anything wrong.

“I didn’t know. I’ve never wanted… before…” Alec’s voice is quiet. Uncertain. Frightened.

Magnus hums. He supposes that’s a small piece of relief. At least Alexander hasn’t been agonizing over this any longer than the past hour or so.

In that case, maybe it’s not as serious as Magnus thought. Maybe the intensity of Alexander’s reaction was just… surprise. Embarrassment. Maybe leaning into the severity isn’t going to help at all. Maybe treating the situation with so much weight is the only thing that’s making it weighty.

So Magnus changes tactics. Goes for a bit of light honesty instead. “This is one of my favorite pairs, you know.” He’s still fairly certain that that’s obvious, but he’s genuinely unsure if Alec even realizes the panties’ particular significance. If he actually recognized them. “I mean, they’ve always been one of my favorites. Even _before_ I saw you in them.”

“Magnus-”

No. Magnus won’t be interrupted just yet. “Of course, I can’t even _imagine_ how much better you’d look if you were wearing _just_ them and nothing else.”

“ _Magnus._ ”

Alright. He’s said what he needs to say.

He looks up at Alexander. Lets him see the smile that he’s been directing down at the panties. And he touches Alexander’s face. Gently. Moves slowly, so Alexander can move aside if he doesn’t want to be touched yet.

He can see the apology on Alec’s face. See it forming on his lips. Magnus doesn’t know what he thinks he needs to say, but he doesn’t want to find out. “Darling, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

Alexander is still blinking a little too hard. “I should have asked,” he says quietly.

“You _could_ have asked. But it’s hardly upsetting for me to come home to the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.”

And, just like he’d hoped, Alexander blushes. But this time, it’s not with embarrassment, or fear. It’s the sweet, honest blush he gets whenever Magnus tells him something like that.

It’s so lovely.

“That’s not true,” Alec says. Or rather, squeaks.

Magnus’s smile widens a bit. This is good. This is something he can work with. This is progress. He tilts his head playfully. “Mm, I suppose you’re right. The Taj Mahal is quite nice.”

And Alexander _laughs._ One weak, startled laugh. But it’s enough. It drains the tension from his face. It relaxes his posture. It makes his hands stop shaking. It dries his eyes.

And it warms Magnus’s whole body.

Alright. Maybe everything is alright. Maybe everything is going to be fine.

Alexander’s mouth moves. That little warm-up his lips do when he’s mentally preparing himself to say something. Something he’s not sure he can bring himself to say.

His gaze drops to the floor. He swallows. “Wearing just these, huh?”

Magnus’s heart skips a beat.

Well.

On second thought, maybe everything is going to be significantly _better_ than ‘fine’.

But Magnus has to stop for a moment.

That’s all it took? A handful of seconds ago, Alexander was breaking down right in front of him. And now, he’s…

And all Magnus did was… see him. See him in these panties.

And tell him it was alright.

It took so little. It _takes_ so little. This is hardly the first time something like this has happened. The first time Alec has hated himself so openly. For such a small reason. For such an _unimportant_ reason. Magnus has seen it before. Because he wanted Magnus. Because he specifically wanted to have sex with Magnus. Because he wanted to wear makeup. And now, because he wants this. Because he wants to wear something pretty.

Fuck. He’d been terrified. He’d been on the verge of tears.

Because he wants to wear pretty underwear.

This is the shadowhunters’ fault. Magnus is sure of it. Well, he may not be sure of it, but he’s going to blame them anyway. Everything _else_ has been their fault, so this is hardly a stretch.

It takes so little. It takes so little that it’s downright _infuriating._ Alexander can be on the brink of completely breaking down, over something so trivial, over wanting something, over wanting to have something so small. And all Magnus has to do is see that. Acknowledge it. And tell him it’s alright.

It’s nothing. No, it doesn’t magically ‘fix’ Alexander’s problems, but it has such a massive impact. It helps so much. Just saying it. ‘It’s alright.’ Two words. That’s all it takes.

That’s all it takes and fucking hell, if that’s _all_ it takes, how has Alec gone over twenty goddamn years without getting it?

Magnus stops. Breathes.

This isn’t the time. This isn’t what Alexander wants right now. Magnus had tried lightening the mood, and it worked. Alec responded to it. He doesn’t want this to be a big deal anymore. That’s painfully clear. He doesn’t want this to matter as much as it does. He wants this to be unimportant.

And, apparently, he wants Magnus to get back to his original intentions. What he’d been attempting to do when he first got home.

And it’s not as though it’ll be any hardship to go back to _that._

So he pushes the rest of it aside. Tucks it away for later (because he knows there’ll be a later. This isn’t done. This particular moment is done, but the issue is still here. Magnus knows this is still a conversation for another time. Right now, he’s guessing that it’ll resurface tonight, sometime between rounds two and three. Maybe three and four, if that stamina rune cooperates).

He puts on a smirk. Lets himself shift gears. Commits to what’s most likely about to happen. “Darling, the only reason I haven’t _ravished_ you already is because I’m trying to be polite.” He rubs his thumb where his hand is still resting on Alexander’s cheek. Just for an extra bit of contact.

Alec looks a little uncertain, but after a moment, he smiles. A tiny, _precious_ little smile. “Yeah?”

Magnus suddenly can’t stand all this distance between them. And it seems like Alec is back on board with a little closeness, so Magnus finally takes a step back in. “Yeah.”

Alexander’s head ticks down a bit, and his lips are doing that little talking-prep again. “Y’know, being polite is, um… kinda overrated.”

Magnus’s eyes widen. And heat sparks in his gut so goddamn quickly it’s downright _ridiculous._ But, hell, this is certainly an improvement over their previous situation. This is an improvement over just about anything. “Why, Alexander, are you _flirting_ with me?” It’s a little risky to phrase it like that, since Alec doesn’t usually like having his attempts to flirt called out so directly. But Magnus hopes he can tell that it’s being called out as a _good_ thing. A very, very good thing.

Alexander laughs, and this time it’s bright, and relaxed, and devastatingly genuine. “I mean, I’m trying to get you to have sex with me, but I guess I’ll take what I can get.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fucking _fuck._

Magnus honestly can’t get himself to speak as Alexander gently touches his hips. He just… He can’t remember the last time Alexander actually said the word ‘sex’, especially in a playful context like this, and _especially_ without Magnus having to directly prompt him to say it.

He scrambles for some sort of response, a witty comeback, something to keep the flirtation going…

Nothing. He’s got nothing.

Damn. He’s speechless. Literally speechless.

Well. With one of his hands on Alec’s cheek, and the other still brushing the lace under his jeans… and with both of Alec’s hands on Magnus’s hips… and with almost no distance left between them whatsoever…

Maybe it’s alright if Magnus lets the conversation end there.

After the brief and _very_ unexpected detour that this evening took so suddenly, Magnus’s body is more than ready to get back to his original plans. The heat spreads through him slowly, like its own form of anticipation. The memories of their last night together come flooding back, and he has to smile just to keep himself from whimpering at the mere _thought_ of getting to be with Alexander again.

And since they have a _long_ night ahead of them, Magnus wants to make sure he has his fun.

So after savoring a few more moments of the _exquisite_ anticipation, Magnus goes up on his toes.

It’s just the right amount. It’s the perfect amount. Magnus loves how perfect it is. How lifting up onto the balls of his feet gets them _exactly_ eye-to-eye. He barely even has to move. It’s not like he’s straining himself. It wouldn’t take much effort to stretch himself up a bit taller, if he wanted. Go more literally on his _toes._ But he doesn’t need to. He just needs to lift himself up a little bit. And it’s perfect.

It’s perfect, and Magnus _loves_ it.

It’s so small. So horribly insignificant. Such a small movement.

But it’s something he almost never gets to do. Something he hasn’t been able to do in ages. He honestly can’t remember the last time he was with someone taller than him. Probably… what, that brief fling at the beginning of the twentieth century? With that seelie who was so _stupidly_ tall. Magnus may not remember much else about him, but he remembers how stupidly tall he was. God, it’s been over a hundred years. Or… was it two? Was that the turn of the twentieth century, or the nineteenth?

Either way, it’s been a hell of a long time. He not really sure if he _missed_ it, per se. But now that he finally has it again, it’s… nice. Magnus doesn’t consider himself to be in the habit of wanting what he can’t have. And this isn’t quite like that. It’s subtler, somehow. More reasonable. He doesn’t want what he can’t have, but he… appreciates it.

Yes. He appreciates what he rarely gets. Appreciates it when he finally gets it.

It’s happened before. With many different things. In _many_ different contexts. He’s old, so he likes getting to feel young. He’s responsible, so he likes getting to feel reckless. He’s wise, so he likes getting to feel naive.

And he’s tall.

So he likes getting to feel short.

He doesn’t have to strain up to kiss Alexander. But he likes that he can. He likes having that option.

And he likes how it always puts that silly little look on Alexander’s face. Like he’s not expecting it. Like he doesn’t think he should get to see it.

Well, Magnus is glad that he seems to appreciate how unusual it is. How it’s something only Alec gets to see. No one else. It’s just for them.

And regardless of any deeper meaning, it gets him _wonderfully_ close to Alexander’s mouth. Because Magnus is realizing that he hasn’t so much as kissed him tonight (not a proper kiss, anyway), and that realization is as absurd as it is unbearable.

But at least it’s about to be rectified. He moves in, so horribly ready-

And Alec pulls away from him. Just a bit. Just enough to dodge Magnus’s kiss.

Magnus is about to check, to see if Alexander’s changed his mind, if he doesn’t want this anymore, if he’s still stuck in whatever he was going through before…

But he’s… smirking.

The little shit is actually _smirking_ at him.

God, is this some sort of _thing_ now? Honestly, Magnus knows they’ve been apart a tiny bit longer than usual, but somehow, all of a sudden, he’s come home to a version of Alexander that lets himself into the apartment and showers without asking and secretly puts on Magnus’s lingerie and says he wants to have sex without any prompting whatsoever, and now he’s actually, genuinely _teasing_ Magnus. Intentionally getting him all wound up, then pulling away, and _smirking_ at the result like he’s some sort of flirtatious playboy instead of someone who’s physically incapable of saying the word ‘orgasm’ (or ‘come’, for that matter, which Magnus has always found terribly charming, considering the intensity of Alexander’s kink for it).

Magnus has long been a firm believer in the power of lingerie to make one feel practically invincible, particularly in the bedroom…

But he’d never considered, not once, not even as a passing fantasy, that it would work for Alexander.

And yet, the very _instant_ Magnus reels him in and finally gets that goddamn kiss, Alec is… gone.

Even at his neediest, even when he’s horny as a pent-up teenager, Alec usually takes a little while to ease into things. It’s like sex still isn’t second-nature to him. It’s something he very clearly thinks about, and plans, and works for. Apparently six months of experience isn’t quite enough for him to feel confident without a bit of a warm up.

Except for right now. Right now, all it takes is a few precious moments of kissing, and then Alexander is clutching Magnus’s hips and _grinding_ against him like they’ve been engaged in casual foreplay all damn afternoon.

And when Magnus can’t keep back a little gasp of surprise at the onslaught, Alec immediately starts _biting_ at Magnus’s lips.

Honestly…

What the _fuck?_

What’s happening? What’s happened to him? To either of them? When did they switch places?

Because when Magnus first got home, _he_ was the one barging in like this was already a done deal, far too desperate for the sex they’ve been promising each other in vague texts and euphemisms and pictures over the past two weeks.

And now Alexander is the one kissing him so deeply that he can’t breathe. And Magnus is the one whimpering and trying to pull him closer and pushing Alexander up against the mirror just so he can feel like he’s doing _something_ to participate.

“W-wa… wait- Mags, wait-”

Ah.

There it is.

Magnus should have know the odd burst of confidence wasn’t meant to last. He takes a step back, takes his arms away from Alec’s neck, takes as many deep breaths as he can-

But Alexander is smiling. “I just need room to-”

And he starts stripping off his shirt.

God.

Magnus is starting to doubt that he’s going to make it out of this night alive.

As soon as their combined efforts manage to get Alexander wrestled out of his shirt (which is no small task, since his t-shirts have been getting tighter and tighter lately, seemingly with each passing day… not that Magnus has been paying attention), Magnus takes over. He’s not going to let himself be a whimpering mess all night long, after all.

But even as he starts _lavishing_ Alexander’s body with attention, he avoids the panties. He doesn’t let his hands get anywhere near them - though he lets his hands wander literally everywhere else. He doesn’t want to risk that it still might be a bit too much. He doesn’t want to bring this back into focus if Alexander has only relaxed because they _aren’t_ focusing on it anymore. He doesn’t want to make this a big deal if Alexander wants it to be as small a deal as possible.

However, Alexander apparently has other ideas. Because he breaks out of their current round of embarrassingly desperate kissing to look down at himself…

And that seems like enough of an invitation for Magnus to get him a little better _situated_ in the lingerie.

Alexander takes a sharp breath, his mouth hanging open the slightest bit. And he makes no effort whatsoever to get Magnus closer to him again. He just keeps staring downward. At himself. And that’s…

That’s certainly something Magnus has never seen before. As the seconds pass, it quickly becomes the longest amount of time he’s _ever_ seen Alec look at himself.

His awful jeans are still sitting just below his hips. Yes, with his equally awful t-shirt gone, it’s a big improvement. But still. It could be better.

It could be _much_ better.

Alexander had said it himself, after all. Well, Magnus had said it first. But Alexander had repeated it.

‘Wearing _just_ these.’

Magnus takes Alec's hand, and leads him out into the bedroom.

Because the bed is so much more comfortable than the closet. And if the soft color of these panties already looks so amazing in contrast to Alexander’s body, the additional contrast of navy blue sheets will be downright _exquisite._

“Magnus-”

Whatever Alec was about to say, it seems like he forgets it quickly enough when Magnus gets him backed up to the bed and gently nudges him in the direction of the mattress. A suggestion, not a demand.

Alexander seems to be a fan of the suggestion, because he falls back and _immediately_ pushes his hips up, which is excellent timing, because Magnus was already reaching for the waist of his jeans anyway.

He starts tugging, and Alec starts wiggling a little, and the jeans come off quickly…

But not quickly _enough._ This is too important, Magnus needs to get them off faster, he can’t stand another second of seeing Alec in anything other than these panties, he needs these jeans to be gone, he pulls them off of Alexander’s feet too roughly because they need to be _gone,_ goddammit-

A spark cracks at the base of his spine, making him shiver.

And the pants disappear.

Wh…

Whoops.

He takes a moment to just… think. Tries to get his brain to show him an image of where the jeans ended up.

But it’s blurry.

Damn.

They’re gone.

He presses his lips together.

“I’m sure they’re still here somewhere.”

He certainly hopes so, anyway. Alexander probably can’t tell any of his horrible pants apart, but his wardrobe is definitely small enough that the loss of a pair of pants would be noticeable.

Fuck. This is the goddamn towels, all over again. Five months later and he _still_ hasn’t figured out where those ended up.

Alexander laughs, so he must not be too upset. Magnus finally stops staring at his empty hands, finally looks up, and-

Oh.

_Oh._

He takes a breath. It feels weak. Insufficient.

Alexander has stretched out on the bed. Lying back against the pillows. Still propped up on his elbows, the slightest bit.

So he can look down. Look at himself.

Alexander is looking at himself. At his body. Practically naked. In nothing but small, lace panties. He’s looking at his body.

And he’s smiling.

It’s small. It’s not a broad expression. Just a little curve in the corner of his mouth. A little warmth in his eyes.

But it’s…

Magnus can’t remember the last time he saw Alexander look at himself at all.

He’s _never_ seen Alexander look at himself like this. Like he actually likes what he sees. Likes how he looks. It’s almost-

It’s almost like, for the first time in six months, the two of them are both looking at Alexander, and seeing the same thing. _Finally_ seeing the same thing. The same beautiful, _beautiful_ image. The same beautiful person.

It’s overwhelming. Magnus feels… off-balance. Shaky. He’s struck so hard by what he's seeing that he can’t focus on anything else. It’s like the entire world has momentarily narrowed, closed in, focused on this. Right now, the world contains the smile on Alexander’s face, and nothing else.

It shouldn’t be possible. Magnus shouldn’t be this affected by something so… small. Simple. Damn near inconsequential. Alexander is just a boy, it’s just a pair of panties, and he’s just smiling. Individually, the pieces are practically nothing. It certainly shouldn’t be enough to be making Magnus feel… this much.

Well. Alexander has always been good at surprising him.

And-

And apparently, Alexander wants to prove that exact point at that exact moment. Because after a few more seconds of letting Magnus stare at him (with a presumably dumbfounded expression), Alexander spreads his legs.

Fuck.

_Fuck._

He just… _spreads_ his legs apart. Stretched out on Magnus’s bed, naked apart from Magnus’s lace panties, smiling, with his legs spread the _perfect_ amount for Magnus to fit right between them.

Maybe this is a dream. Magnus hasn’t even considered that theory yet. Hell, at this point, it’d make more sense that way. He’s been given absolutely _no_ reason to believe that this is real. There have been no hints. No clues. Nothing to prepare him.

Yes. That must be it. It’s been weeks, after all. Magnus has been missing Alec a bit too much. Magnus has been _wanting_ Alec a bit too much.

So it makes perfect sense that his mind is conjuring up the most phenomenal wet dream he could ever imagine.

But that’s all the more reason to savor this. So when he gets situated in that perfect space between Alec’s legs, he doesn’t kiss him right away - even though that’s what his body is basically _begging_ him to do.

He gives himself a moment. A moment to run his fingers through Alexander’s sandalwood-scented hair. To feel Alexander’s chest rise and fall with his labored breathing. To see the little look on his face, the look of pleasure and confusion and uncertainty, all contained in the wideness of his eyes, the subtle part of his lips.

And Magnus can’t help himself.

“I love you, Alexander.”

He says it. And he says it just to say it. No other reason. He doesn’t say it just because he wants to hear it in return. No. Not at all. He’s done with that now. He’s done asking for that.

(God, he can still barely bring himself to remember that first night Alexander had said it to him. How he’d barely made it an hour before he'd lost any decent sense of shame and blatantly asked Alexander to say it again. And again. And again. And honestly, it wasn’t exactly Magnus’s most dignified night. Regardless of how easily Alexander had said it. Every time.)

“Magnus,” Alec says softly.

But Magnus said it for purely selfless reasons. He didn’t say it just to hear Alexander say it back.

And to prove that to himself, he doesn’t even give Alec the chance. He kisses him instead - which is hardly a difficult compromise to make.

Still, it’s not at all surprising that Alexander only makes it a few seconds before he breaks away from the kiss. “I love you too.”

In Magnus’s defense, his heart just _barely_ skips a beat. The pang in his chest is getting subtler and subtler every time he hears it. In a month or so, he probably wouldn’t even feel a _hint_ of disbelief anymore.

His heart is still calming down a bit as he crawls backward, shifting down Alexander’s body, desperate to do _anything_ that might make Alexander feel the same burst of warm surprise that’s still settling in his gut.

He’s just so…

Honest.

Alexander is honest. Open. Incapable of pretense. Even when he’s lying, the truth is just barely hidden. Regardless of what his intentions are, his feelings are terribly visible. Plain as day. Regardless of how much he tries to hide, Alexander might just be the most honest person Magnus has ever known.

Which means that’s _exactly_ how he loves, too. Openly. Honestly. With absolutely no expectations in return. Magnus doesn’t think he’s ever been given this much love for so little before.

It’s not that he doesn’t do anything for Alexander. He does. He very much does. But it’s so clear that Alexander is never expecting it from him.

Alexander expects _nothing_ from him. Every gesture, every word, every tiny hint of love and affection, it’s all a surprise to him. It’s all more than he expects to receive. More than he thinks he deserves.

Which, of course, just makes Magnus want to give him even more. Enough to convince him that he should expect it. That it should be normal. That he deserves it.

Apparently, all of this emotion swirling around in his chest somehow physically translates to trying to suck Alexander’s cock right through the panties.

Well. It wasn’t exactly what he’d planned. But some part of him clearly thought it was a good idea (he’s fairly certain he knows which part it was). And he’s certainly not going to complain about the way it makes Alec’s body arch up toward him, and-

“By the _Angel!”_

Yes. That’s another lovely little perk.

Still, it’s not like Magnus to be quite this _forward,_ without any discussion beforehand whatsoever - particularly since he’s already pushed Alexander past his comfort level once tonight - so he forces himself away after only a few precious seconds.

And if he lets himself laugh a bit at the sheer _magnificence_ of the sight that’s laid out before him, well. He doesn’t think he can be faulted for that.

“What do you want?”

Tonight is _truly_ a night of surprises for Magnus, because it only takes a moment or two for Alec to respond.

And his quiet, frantic “Kiss me?” is surprise enough itself. Magnus had honestly been expecting something more intense than that. They’ve been kissing for a while. He’d assumed Alexander was building up toward something else.

But regardless of his surprise, Magnus moves _immediately,_ like all of Alexander’s desperation has been transferred to him.

And it takes no time at all for Magnus to lose himself. In slow, wet, _deep_ kisses. Trying to get as close to Alexander as physically possible. Cradling Alexander’s face. Pressing Alexander into the bed. Getting his tongue _obscenely_ far into Alexander’s mouth.

It feels like several minutes could easily slip by like that. Just them. Just kissing. Like there's nothing else for them to do. Like they haven’t already made a million plans too many for this one evening. Like they’ve been in this bed every moment of the last two weeks, not kept apart.

Magnus certainly has no desire to change their current situation.

However, after another minute or so, it seems as though Alec might not agree. Because his physicality is changing, gradually. He goes from holding to clutching. From licking to biting. From pressing to grinding. The slow, relaxed atmosphere clearly isn’t doing it for him anymore.

As soon as Magnus can bring himself to pull back, he smiles. “Anything else?”

Alexander apparently feels that warrants an eye-roll (which hardly seems fair. It’s not as though Magnus can read minds). He takes Magnus’s left hand, and-

Ah.

Alright. _This_ is more the direction Magnus had thought this was going to take. It’s enough to make him laugh a little as he slips his hand into Alexander’s panties…

No. They’re _his_ panties. Not Alexander's.

It’s not as though it’s an important distinction, by any means.

But…

He slips his hand inside his own panties. And wraps his fingers around Alexander’s cock.

There’s something… there’s something to that. Magnus doesn’t know what. But it’s… something.

It’s not as though he’s completely unfamiliar with having his hand inside these particular panties. The feeling of the lace as his knuckles brush across it, back and forth, back and forth. Having just enough room to twist his wrist. Trailing his fingers further down, trailing back, far enough to feel where lace meets satin. None of that is new to him.

But feeling all of that… and the shape of Alexander’s cock. Feeling all of that, and hearing Alexander bite out curses. Feeling all of that, and watching his hand move against Alexander’s skin.

Alexander’s skin, which is heating up with every second. Shining with sweat in some places, but prickling with goosebumps in others. The visible shape of his ribs as he arches his back, disappearing and reappearing over and over as he fails to take adequate breaths. Gasping shallowly, letting out shaky little sighs and moans. His head, pressing too hard into the pillows. His damp hair mussed beyond any hope of salvaging. His neck straining with each weak sound he makes.

His eyes. Focused downward. Focused on Magnus’s hand, moving on his cock, inside the panties. His wide, pleasured, _stunned_ gaze, locked on himself. Never looking away.

Magnus feels lightheaded - even though he’s barely doing anything, really. It’s just… too much. He wasn’t prepared for this. Any of it. He doesn’t think he could have ever prepared himself for something like this.

He turns his face in, brushing his nose against Alec’s cheek. “So beautiful, Alexander. You’re _so_ beautiful.”

By this point, Alexander has _definitely_ given up on the relaxed mood from before. Magnus had thought this would be light, easy fooling around. But the tension in Alexander’s body and the trembling in his breath is making it fairly clear that this is _not_ the right opportunity for Magnus to be taking his sweet time.

And it makes sense, really. Alexander wanting some release after all of that stress when Magnus first got home. Wanting to focus on something else. Feel something else, for a bit.

So Magnus doesn’t try to drag this out any further (though it doesn’t seem like Alexander would be capable of lasting much longer, regardless of Magnus’s intentions). He tightens his grip, the way that Alec always seems to _particularly_ appreciate, and gives all of his focus to that lube in the drawer…

And there’s some of it in his hand. Already warm enough to not feel jarring as it slides along Alexander’s cock.

The sound Alexander makes in response is enough to get an utterly  _ridiculous_ amount of reaction from Magnus’s dick. It’s embarrassing enough as it is, but it’s made even worse by the fact that Magnus has already determined that this round of sex isn’t going to involve an orgasm for him. He’d decided much earlier today that he doesn’t want to come at all tonight unless Alexander is inside him.

Still, the image of Alexander _writhing_ on the bed is certainly testing his resolve a bit. Because, is this…?

Fuck. Is this part of his life now? Is this something he gets to accept as a fact of his life? Getting to come home after a long day (or a long two weeks), and dress his gorgeous boyfriend up in gorgeous lingerie. Getting to see his boyfriend look like this. Getting to see his boyfriend look at _himself_ like this. Getting to have sex with him while he’s looking like this, and _feeling_ like this…

God, the idea is almost too wonderful to handle.

“The things I want to do to you, Alexander.”

Oh.

He hadn’t really planned to say that out loud.

Well. Now that he has, he might as well commit to it.

He gives one slow, _tight_ squeeze. “You know, with the right lingerie, I could make love to you without even having to take it off.”

And-

_Shit._

Alexander’s sudden, _loud_ cry makes Magnus fairly confident that he’s enthusiastic about that idea.

Fuck.

Magnus still hasn’t gotten over the thrill of teaching Alec about makeup. Sharing all the little tips and tricks he’s picked up over the years - the centuries. God, it’s still _horribly_ wonderful to pick out the perfect eyeshadow to match hazel eyes.

And now, on top of all that, there’s _this._

Fabrics. Styles. _Colors._ Actual colors, on Alexander. The possibilities are truly endless. And _unbelievable._ Fuck, all this time Magnus has spent dreaming up a version of Alexander who actually wore color, he still never let himself fantasize about more than just a nice pastel shirt. This is…

He bites his lip. Then decides that biting at Alec’s ear would be a much better use of his teeth.

There’s no point in getting ahead of himself. He’s still not sure there’s going to be anything more than this. Alexander might not like it after all. He might not have any interest in wearing something like this again. So all Magnus can do is savor this, what’s happening right now, for as long as possible.

Though it doesn’t seem like it’s going be much longer.

Alexander’s moans start to string together, like he’s trying to get at the basic idea of words. It takes a few moments before he makes it to anything understandable. “Magnus… w- s-st… ‘m gonna…”

The idea he's trying to convey becomes clear immediately… but Magnus doesn’t clarify for him. He waits a few seconds. Waits to see if Alexander might finish his own thought. Might actually say what he’s about to do. Actually say that word…

Well. Magnus hadn’t really thought he would. It was worth a shot, at least.

But that doesn’t mean he can’t have a _little_ bit of fun.

“Are you going to come for me, Alec?”

Alec’s reaction - while not an actual _response_ in any way - is absolutely _lovely._

So Magnus pushes further. It might be a bit cruel of him to try and embarrass Alexander in a situation like this, but he’s still hoping that hearing enough of this kind of talk will eventually get Alec comfortable enough to say some of it himself. Some day.

“Yes, come on. Let go. Want you to feel it, want you to feel _so good.”_ He presses parted lips to Alec’s sweaty cheek. “Please, Alexander, _please_ come for me.”

And it only takes a few seconds, after that. Based on his breathing and the noises he’s been making, Magnus assumes he’s been very close for a very long time.

And it’s…

Hm.

It’s not as though the panties themselves have anything to do with the way Alexander looks in this moment. Magnus isn’t even looking at them. His eyes are fixed on Alexander. On his face.

His head is thrown back. His eyebrows are tilted up. His eyes are shut so tightly that Magnus can practically _see_ the strain of it. And his mouth is open, letting him cry and whimper as loud as he pleases.

The specifics may change, but overall, his expression is always the same.

Disbelief.

Pleasure, of course. Satisfaction. Release. But all of it is overshadowed by the disbelief. Every time. No matter how many times it’s happened. He looks every bit as stunned now as he had the _first_ time Magnus had seen him come.

As soon as he can stand to look away, Magnus brings his lips back to Alec’s ear. “That’s it. That’s it, angel. God, you’re beautiful. So beautiful when you come.”

Magnus’s hand is already so wet with lube that it’s hard to accurately judge how much semen is getting smeared onto his fingers, but he does his best. Tries to catch as much of it as possible. Because he knows Alexander will get plenty of enjoyment out of getting come on his stomach, but in this particular situation, Magnus thinks it’d be _so much_ nicer if-

Alexander opens his eyes. Mouth still open. Chest still heaving with uneven breaths.

And he’s looking down.

Magnus resists the urge to smirk. And runs his hand across the panties. He realizes that a fair amount of the mess is just lube, but it gets the point across anyway.

And for a moment, he’s worried that Alec genuinely stops breathing altogether as he watches. Watches his come spread across the fabric.

Well, it _clearly_ had the effect that Magnus anticipated, so he doesn’t indulge himself for too long. Once he’s wiped off most of what’s on his hand, he snuggles in. Lets Alexander breathe. Lets Alexander _finally_ start catching his breath.

Unsurprisingly, Alexander _hasn’t_ caught his breath yet before he asks, “Do you want me to…?”

It’s sweet, really. Very considerate.

Magnus gives him a quick kiss. “I’m fine. That was just for you, darling.”

Alec doesn’t look convinced.

“Don’t worry,” Magnus says with what little energy he can muster, “the night is still young. And I intend to make _good_ use of this,” he touches the stamina rune, making sure the touch itself isn’t _too_ suggestive. Alexander needs at least a few minutes to recover, after all.

And Alexander seems to agree, because he finally settles down. He seems a bit too tired to actually cuddle up to Magnus, but the proximity of their bodies makes his intentions pretty clear. It’s the thought that counts.

But then he gets… almost _too_ comfortable. Suspiciously comfortable. Not like that’s actually a bad thing, but Magnus isn’t quite sure…

He doesn’t look like he’s going to start talking. But there’s something in his body. It’s not tension, not exactly. But it’s pretty close to that.

So. Maybe he’s not ready for the discussion to be over just yet.

Well, at least that’s easy enough to check.

“So, I take it a shopping spree is in order?”

It’s the perfect question. Light, simple, yes or no. It’s not about anything else. Any of what was _really_ going on when Alexander picked up these panties. It’s a way to start the conversation, if he wants to. Or brush it off, if he wants to. There are options.

And Alexander takes _none_ of them. “Huh?”

Magnus smiles. “Believe what you will about how I acquire my possessions, Alexander, but I do actually _buy_ my clothes. In person. From a store. With money. And while I’m not entirely opposed to the principle of sharing,” not opposed at _all_ actually, but that’s not important, “I can’t have my boyfriend walking around in ill-fitting lingerie, can I?”

“Magnus.”

“Imagine how much nicer it’ll feel to have a pair that’s actually your size. That you picked out. An entire _collection_ even.”

“Magnus, I can’t-”

“Of _course_ you can, Alec.” Normally he likes to let Alec get through his entire train of thought, but he can tell this one is already headed off the tracks. So he tries to make his point, as clearly and gently as possible. “Who’s going to know? You have no idea how amazing it feels to have something like this hidden under your clothes. Just for you. Under your clothes, under your gear, even. Out on a mission. You can still have this. You can still feel like this, and no one has to know but you.”

It’s an important point. An important aspect of this. So he wants to get it out now, before it can get bogged down in anything else. If Alec is going to say that he doesn’t want this, Magnus wants to make sure that he doesn’t _want_ it. Not that he thinks he _can’t_ have it for any reason. Because he can. Magnus needs him to know that he can. There’s too much that Alexander doesn’t allow himself. Magnus can’t have something like this be about what he thinks he’s allowed. It has to be about him. What he wants. What-

“I don’t know what size I am,” Alec says. Hesitant. Barely even voiced. “I don’t know how sizes work for… this.”

Oh.

Well.

That’s _certainly_ a start.

Magnus smiles. “I’ll help you.”

“Can I… uh, just, you know, just for tonight. Could I… keep wearing these ones?” Alec’s voice is still quiet. Still uncertain. Still _painfully_ hopeful.

But Magnus isn’t quite sure what he means. If he wants to keep wearing them during the rest of the sex they’ve been planning on having before the night is over. If he wants to keep wearing them when they’re done with that. When they get dressed. When they have dinner, and talk, and do the usual, innocuous things. If he wants to keep wearing them when they eventually go to bed tonight. If he still wants to have the panties on, under his clothes. For no reason at all. Just because he can.

Though, Magnus supposes, the reason is unimportant. He’s never cared about anything less.

He kisses Alec. Gently. After all, Alec is still getting himself back together, and Magnus doesn’t want it to seem like he’s trying to start something else already. “Anything you want, Alexander.”

And Alec smiles.

Or, at least, it _feels_ like Alec smiles. Their faces are still too close for Magnus to really see it. But when Alec brushes his lips against Magnus’s again, it feels like he’s smiling.

Except…

It doesn’t last.

Alexander pulls away, much too soon for Magnus’s liking. They weren’t exactly pressed together to begin with, so when Alexander shifts the tiniest bit, it feels like he’s putting a massive amount of distance between them.

He looks up. Stares at the ceiling. Hands resting at his sides. And slowly, his fingers start moving. They tense, and coil into the sheets. He’s still breathing too hard, but honestly, this soon after sex, it’s hard to tell if that's from anxiety or just overexertion.

But he’s thinking. That much is obvious. His eyes are so intent on the blank ceiling it’s like he’s trying to read something off of it. His jaw is moving, grinding his teeth. His hands tense and relax, tense and relax, bunching up more and more of the bedding each time until he has fistfuls of silk.

It’s a little devastating, to be honest. Just a few minutes ago, he’d been coming all over himself and practically sobbing against Magnus’s face. He’d been moaning and writhing and looking at himself like he was seeing something _good_ for the first time…

And now, this.

The worst part is probably how _familiar_ it looks. The tension. The anxiety. Magnus doesn’t have a damn clue what’s happening in Alexander’s mind right now, but it’s painful clear that it’s awful.

“Do- uh. Y-you…” Alexander presses his lips together and sighs out his nose. He’s frustrated. With himself, most likely. He makes an inarticulate noise, the one he makes and then chokes off instantly, usually when his brain wants him to say something but his embarrassment forces him to chicken out before the words can form.

He takes a quick, sharp breath. Eyes still locked on the ceiling. “You think I’m pretty.”

He says it fast. Flat. No trace of tone or emotion. He spits it all out at once, like he needs to say it as one word so he doesn’t have time to lose his nerve.

And Magnus…

Wants to make a joke. A lighthearted bit of teasing. He wants to keep the mood from dipping too sharply.

But… he’s so goddamn _surprised_ by what Alexander said that he… can’t think of anything. Can’t think of a single quip. Can’t even make himself laugh a bit, or smile.

So all he can do is be honest. “Yes. I always have.”

Alec takes his lower lip between his teeth. He’s blinking faster than should be necessary. “Wh…” He swallows. There's an audible gulp. “Why?”

Magnus frowns. He still hasn’t found his footing in this new conversation. He’s still transitioning from sex to discussion. He hasn’t caught up yet. “Why what?”

Alec’s fingers tighten in the sheets until Magnus genuinely worries he might be able to rip right through them. He closes his eyes. It looks like he’s mentally preparing himself to rip off a bandaid.

“Why do you think I’m pretty?”

Magnus feels his stomach sink, weighing him further into the mattress.

It’s not necessarily an unusual question. Magnus has probably been asked the same thing before. Hell, Magnus might have _asked_ someone this question. Coy and flirtatious. Teasing. Sarcastic. Fishing for a compliment.

But that’s not what this is.

Magnus has never heard anyone ask it… honestly. With confusion. With need.

With a voice this small. This close to breaking.

Magnus makes himself smile. Or he does his best, anyway. “Well, my first instinct is to say that it’s because I’m not blind.” He tilts his head in toward the pillow, so he’s facing Alexander - even though Alexander is still looking at the ceiling. “But something tells me that’s not the type of answer you want to hear.”

Alec starts blinking even harder. Even more frequently. He rubs his lips together-

Because they’re trembling. And he’s trying to hide it. Trying to keep himself together.

Magnus makes a small sound in the back of his throat, before he can think any better of it.

He’d thought this conversation would happen much later in the night. After dinner, at the very least. He wasn’t expecting this yet.

Hell, he wasn’t expecting _this_ at all.

Alexander sniffs, like he’s preemptively trying to keep his face dry. But he doesn’t say anything else. And he's not displaying any of his tells, any of his little clues that there’s something else he wants to say.

So Magnus tries instead. After all, they’ve already come this far. It seems like it might _finally_ be the right time to ask. The question he’s had for so long now. Months. Practically since the moment they met.

“Do you really not see it?”

Alec sniffs again, deep, and lets out a shaky sigh. It seems like he understands the question, at least. He doesn’t look surprised to be asked. It looks like it’s difficult for him, but Magnus would guess that's because it _is_ something he’s thought about.

He takes a breath. “Sometimes.”

And that’s…

It’s so small. In theory, it should be a _horrible_ answer.

But for Alexander, it’s so much. It’s more than Magnus has ever heard. It’s more than Magnus has ever really believed.

It’s a start.

And Alec isn’t done talking yet. His throat is moving, getting ready for whatever sentence he’s carefully rehearsing in his mind.

It takes a few moments. But he gets there. “Just… my face. W-with makeup. My face looks…” his face twists up, like it’s actually _painful_ to choose a descriptor for himself. “Good. With makeup.” He lets out the rest of his air. Deflating, because he said something so simple. Something that should be so easy.

And he looks down. At himself. Just like he’d done before.

Except now, his expression is different. Now, his expression is exactly what Magnus has come to expect from him. A deep frown, and anger in his eyes, and thinly-veiled… disgust.

“It’s everything… _else,_ it’s just-” His head flinches to one side. A little tic. “It’s rough, and all this muscle and it’s too _much,_ it’s too much, I can’t-”

He breaks off. Turns his head away, so Magnus can’t see him.

There’s a lot to…

There’s a lot to process, in that. Perhaps the most troubling is the fact that he’s repeatedly referring to his body as ‘it’ and not ‘me’. There’s no… possession. It’s distant. He’s distancing himself from his own damn body.

And Magnus isn’t sure he can deal with something like that. Not right now, anyway. He’d need some more time to prepare for that conversation.

But there’s something else.

Magnus purses his lips. “Do you think I’m pretty?”

That’s enough to make Alexander turn back to face him again. With an expression of confusion and _outrage_ that would be downright comical in any other context. “Of course,” he says firmly, almost like he’s offended that he’s even being asked.

Magnus curls up onto his side, tucking his arm underneath the pillow. He doesn’t really get any closer to Alec, but the change in posture helps him feel less severe. This is technically pillow talk. He doesn’t want it to feel like an interrogation.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Magnus says with just a _hint_ of playfulness, scrunching up his nose, “but _I’m_ rather muscular as well.”

He’d meant it to be light. Not a joke (since it’s _true_ ), but not something serious either.

But it just makes Alec frown. And look away again. Back up at the ceiling. “That’s not the same.”

“Isn’t it?”

Alec doesn’t answer. And it doesn’t look like he has any desire to try.

Magnus gives him a moment, in case he changes his mind…

Nothing.

Magnus sighs. “So, let me make sure I have all of this right: I can wear makeup, and you can’t. And I can wear lingerie, and you can’t. And I can be muscular, and you can’t. And I can be pretty. And you can’t?”

Alec blinks. His head shifts, like he’s trying to find somewhere else to look. Like he’s lost.

Magnus moves his free hand, letting it fall to the bed. Letting it brush against Alec’s. Just a bit. “It sounds like I get to have all the fun. Doesn’t seem very fair, does it?”

And that’s it. That’s what does it.

Alexander starts blinking _furiously,_ but it doesn’t help. His jaw shakes until Magnus can actually hear his teeth clacking together. He gasps in a breath. And a few tears slip out of the corner of his eye. Just a few. Quickly trailing down the side of his face and disappearing into his hair.

Magnus has to actually _fight_ his impulse to pull Alec to him, to fold him up in his arms and smother him into the sheets. God, it feels like he’s suffocating himself by keeping his distance.

But he can’t reach for him. He knows he can’t.

Because that’s what Magnus would want. How he’d want Alexander to respond if their places were reversed.

It’s not what Alexander wants. Magnus knows that. Alexander wants to fight. To get himself under control. To pretend this isn’t happening. For Magnus to pretend that he isn’t seeing it.

Still, Magnus thinks it might actually kill him if he doesn’t do _anything._

So he puts his hand on Alec’s shoulder.

And when Alec doesn’t shy away from his touch, Magnus tries a bit more, and carefully wipes away the stray tears with the backs of his fingers. “Darling.”

Alec shakes his head, just a little. Barely enough to notice. But it’s enough to let Magnus know that he was right, that Alec _doesn’t_ want to do this right now.

Which…

Alright.

Magnus hates having to accept that. He _hates_ it.

But he knows it’s not helpful to force Alexander to deal with something when he’s _this_ certain that he doesn’t want to. It’s been difficult, but by now Magnus has learned that timing is everything with Alec. Him refusing to let himself feel this right now doesn’t mean he won’t let himself feel it later. They still have the whole night, after all. He just doesn’t want this right now. Doesn't want this yet.

And Magnus is going to respect that.

He’s _going_ to respect it, goddammit.

But…

_Fuck._

He’s never been able to handle seeing a cute boy cry. Having to see _Alexander_ cry is outright torture.

So he tries something else. He doesn’t acknowledge what Alec’s going through, but that doesn’t mean he has to change the subject entirely.

“What about these?” he asks quietly, touching his hand lightly to the lace on Alec’s hip. The come-stained panties. “Are these pretty?”

Alec laughs. Once. Weak, and muffled with unshed tears. “Yeah.”

“Do you feel pretty in them?”

Alec blinks. Takes a deep breath. And looks down again.

He takes several moments. Just to look. And breathe.

“Yeah. I do.”

Magnus can feel his smile start all the way in his chest, slowly spreading up to his face. “Well. There you go.”

Alexander’s eyebrows furrow as he glances up at Magnus. “What?”

“You feel pretty in these.” Magnus lets his hand trail forward a bit, wanting to touch more of the panties, but carefully avoiding Alexander’s cock. “So wear them. And feel pretty.”

Alec opens his mouth-

And makes a strange sound. A strangled, choking sound. Confusion. Or surprise, maybe? It might even be a startled laugh. “That’s it?”

Magnus shrugs. “What else is there?” He smiles softly. “There’s no all-powerful secret to feeling pretty. It’s not that complicated. If you feel pretty in nice lingerie, then wear nice lingerie. And feel pretty.” He shifts forward, just enough to get his face a bit closer to Alec’s. “That’s it.”

Alexander glances away. Then back to Magnus. Then down to the panties again.

And he laughs, quietly. “That seems… too easy.”

Magnus smirks, and drags his fingers further up, off of the panties, onto Alexander’s stomach. He brushes his fingertips over the patch of drying come above his navel. “You can deconstruct it, if you’d like. Sort out the details, the _reasons,_ get into a bit further.” He stops, and waits for Alec to meet his gaze. “But you don’t have to.”

Alec looks at him. With surprising intensity. Like he’s trying to verify the words based on the look in Magnus’s eyes. Like he’s looking for a reason to believe him.

“Just… wear these,” Alec repeats softly.

Magnus smiles. “Yes.”

“And feel pretty.”

“That’s the idea.”

Alexander looks down again. His lips are pressed together, mouth twisted up. The gears in his head are turning.

And eventually, he nods, still looking at himself.

“Yeah.”

He says it with finality. Like it’s a decision. Like it’s the answer to a question he hasn’t been asked.

He looks up at Magnus. Determined. Not quite confident, but hopeful.

He’s smiling.

“Yeah,” he says again. “Yeah, I-” He takes a breath. “I can do that.”

And that’s… it. A small smile. Certain. Happy.

Pretty.

Magnus runs his hand up Alexander’s stomach. Up to his chest. Along the side of his neck. Until he’s cupping his cheek. “I know you can, darling.”

He means to go in for a kiss, but Alexander beats him to it.

"Mags."

He angles his face, and presses his lips to Magnus’s cheek. So soft. So unexpected. Somehow, it feels infinitely more tender than a kiss on the lips ever could.

It makes Magnus’s heart flutter a truly _stupid_ amount.

Alexander rolls onto his side, looping his arm around Magnus’s waist and pulling him close. Wonderfully close.

Hm.

Magnus thinks through his schedule. What he’s planned for the weekend.

He can probably make some time. Probably in the morning. There must be a few hours he can free up. Just a little bit of time.

Enough time to go shopping.

Alexander scoots down the bed a bit, and tucks his face into the crook of Magnus’s neck.

Yes. Magnus is sure he can find the time.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written the same story from multiple characters' perspectives before. But I've received this prompt more than any other in the entire series, so after _months_ of gathering up the courage to finally go for it, here we are. "Satin" has consistently gotten some of the best responses of anything in the series, so I sincerely hope this lives up to expectations.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s all so fucked. It’s so wrong. Magnus isn’t supposed to be here. He isn’t supposed to see Alec like this. Alec isn’t supposed to be like this in the first place. He isn’t supposed to be this weak. He isn’t supposed to fuck up like this. He’s supposed to be better than this. He’s supposed to be stronger than this. He’s supposed to be the leader. He’s supposed to _protect_ them. He’s supposed to hurt demons. He’s not supposed to hurt his family.
> 
> [Content Warning: Graphic depiction of panic attacks]

The key won’t go in the lock. It keeps glancing off the side. Getting a little ways in, then twisting right back out. It won’t go in the lock. Alec keeps trying. And trying.

And every time he tries, there’s that rattle. The scraping of metal on metal. It’s so loud.

How is it so loud?

He tries again.

And again, the key won’t go in the lock.

Because his hand is shaking too hard.

“D- _dammit!”_ he spits, trying to cover up that horrific _rattling_ that’s so fucking loud in the quiet hallway.

He grips the edge of the door frame with his other hand. Squeezes. Squeezes as hard as he can. Until that hand stops shaking.

He concentrates. He breathes. He-

He tries to breathe.

It doesn’t really work.

Everything is blurry. Everything but the key, and the lock. Everything else is… draining. The color is getting fainter. It’s just this damn lock, and this key that won’t work, and his fucking hands that won’t stop fucking _shaking_.

Alec bites down on his tongue. Forces himself to take a breath. Squeezes his hands. One on the door frame, one around the key.

The key makes it into the lock. Rattling the whole way.

Alec immediately cranes his wrist. Turns the key so fast and so harsh that he’s afraid he might snap his hand right off his arm. But he doesn’t care. He needs to get inside. He needs to be home. He can’t be out here anymore.

He’s in the loft. He hears the key fall to the floor. He hears the door slam behind him. He hears the shifting sounds of laces being untied, boots being taken off, being tossed toward the shoe rack.

He hears all of it, but he doesn’t feel it. He doesn’t really realize he’s the one doing it.

Alright. He’s home. He’s home, and he’s fine.

He’s fine.

He’s fine, and Izzy’s fine.

Alec’s throat makes a noise. A strained, ugly whimper.

Izzy is fine.

Izzy is fine.

Izzy is _fine._

One of his hands scratches at the back of his neck. Scratches, or claws.

Izzy is fine.

No thanks to him.

He reaches out, makes contact with the brick pillar next to the door. Holds himself up.

Fuck. He has to hold himself up. He can’t even stand. He needs help.

Alec was in the infirmary with her. He saw the bandages. He saw the iratze. He saw the way the blood stopped spreading across the white gauze, as soon as the rune burned on her skin. He saw her wince, grind her teeth, breathe.

And that was it. She didn’t wince again after that. She didn’t keep bleeding. She rolled her shoulder, slowly at first, testing the strain. And it was fine. She’ll have to wait a day or two before she has the full range of motion with her right arm again, but that’s it. Just a day. Just some time to rest. She’s not in pain anymore. She’s not hurt anymore. She’s fine.

She’s fine.

If Alec could make his limbs work, he could reach into his back pocket, take out his phone, and look up the half a dozen texts she’s sent him since he left the Institute, all of which reiterate the fact that _she is fine._

There’s sweat beading on Alec’s forehead. Which doesn’t make sense, since it’s freezing in here. He’s covered in goosebumps. His teeth are chattering. He’s so cold.

And he’s sweating.

No one else got hurt. Alec’s got a scrape or two, but nothing important. Clary’s a little shaken, but she’s not hurt. Jace is - by the Angel - Jace had barely even broken a sweat. He’s fine. Everyone is fine.

Alec’s knees jerk, like they’re gonna give out. He grips the pillar tighter, until he can feel the brick scraping his fingertips.

Izzy’s fine. It’s just a minor injury. A scrape. It’s not going to cause any lasting damage. She’s not in pain. She’s not in pain anymore-

Anymore.

She’s not in pain anymore but that means she _was_ in pain - she’s fine now but that means she _wasn’t_ fine before. She was hurt and she wasn’t fine and she was in pain…

Alec chokes in a breath.

It was an accident. It wasn’t intentional. It was just… the setting. The subway platform. The noise of the train going by on the opposite track. The demon getting farther away, deeper into the tunnel, closer to the noise and farther away from the light. It was dark. It was loud. There were mundanes in the way, so _many_ of them. Alec had a clear shot. The demon was in the tunnel, away from the platform, _finally_ away from the mundanes. There was no one in the way. It was a clear shot.

He’d shouted. When he saw Izzy start to move. She didn’t see him. So he’d shouted. He’d shouted as loud as he could. It’s not his fault that the screeching of the other train and the sounds of the crowd had been louder. It’s not his fault, it’s-

He could have been louder. He could have shouted _before_ he took the shot. He could have given a warning. He could have done something. He knows it. He did everything wrong.

It’s his fault.

And even if it weren’t, that doesn’t change anything. Can’t change it. Can’t change the fact that he knows what it’s like to stand there and see _his_ arrow slice through Isabelle’s shoulder.

Another sound squeezes out of his throat. His nails are biting into his palms. He can’t breathe. He’s sweating. He’s freezing.

She’s fine. It was an accident. He tried to warn her. It was a mistake. She’s fine. She’s not in pain anymore. She’s healed. She’s fine. She’s not in pain. She’s not-

She _was_ in pain. She was hurt. Isabelle was hurt. Because Alec didn’t shout loud enough. Because he didn’t warn her. Because he did it all wrong. Because he shot her.

He shot her. He _shot_ Isabelle, his arrow went through her shoulder, he hurt her, he shot her, he hurt-

Ah-

Fuck.

Alec’s stomach lurches violently. Upward. The fever in his skin climbs up to his forehead. His throat tightens and… spasms. Acid. He tastes acid, like a gas in the back of his mouth. He tastes acid-

_Fuck._

His limbs aren’t working right. It’s damn near impossible to coordinate them how he needs to. Walking feels like stumbling feels like running feels like falling-

He lands on his knees in front of the toilet just in time.

There’s nothing in his stomach, he can tell. He hasn’t eaten since breakfast. He hasn’t had anything to drink, either. Completely empty.

Alec grips the toilet seat. His mouth opens, and his throat clenches, and his stomach pushes…

And nothing happens. There’s nothing in his stomach. Nothing can come up.

But that doesn’t keep his body from trying. He heaves again, and again, and he coughs just to make it stop for a second, and he heaves.

There’s too much pressure. Starting in his stomach, pressing up through his throat, into his head. It makes his nose run. It feels like his eyes are gonna pop out of his skull if it doesn’t stop. His ears are ringing, but he can still hear the quiet plop of tears landing in the water. He can hear the ugly choking sounds that are coming out of his mouth.

It stops. But just for a second, he knows that. Just enough to catch his breath. To spit out all the saliva that’s been gathering at the back of his throat. To breathe. Breathe, he can’t-

It happens again. The same long, tight, heaving. The same loud, sputtering, _pained_ noises of coughing and choking. The same pain. In his head. In his throat. In his stomach.

Again, it only stops long enough for Alec to take one weak breath.

And the whole things starts again.

A breath.

Once more.

Another breath.

Twice more.

He can’t breathe this time. He tries. He coughs and he chokes and he heaves and he gasps and _he can’t breathe-_

By the Angel, it feels like he’s been here for hours. It’s all he can feel, and it’s like it’s all he’s ever felt. The choking noises have become sobs. The few tears being squeezed out of his eyes have become a steady flow.

It has to be minutes later - it feels like _days_ but he doesn’t want to exaggerate, he knows it’s been a handful of minutes - minute after minute after minute of his body trying to push everything inside him up out of his mouth.

Then he finally, _finally_ manages to throw up a tiny bit of bright yellow bile.

It’s nothing. A thin strand. An odd color in the toilet. A taste so sour and bitter and acidic that it burns his mouth, even after it’s done.

Alec has no idea how something like this can feel like _relief._

His face is so wet. It’s sweat trailing down his hairline and tears trailing down his cheeks and snot trailing down his lips and fuck knows what trailing down his chin. The taste in his mouth is so vile that it almost makes him want to vomit again, but…

But…

His stomach isn’t settled. It’s still roiling, still spasming.

But he doesn’t have to throw up. It’s a deep, shaking sort of unsettled. Not the violent, _upwards_ sort of unsettled it was before.

That’s…

Alright.

That's something.

Alec’s mouth is still open. Still letting out drool and these _pathetic_ little noises. Weak noises. Weak little cries.

It’s an actual goddamn _struggle_ to make himself let go of the toilet seat. He’s probably left dents in the porcelain with his fingertips by now. It takes too much effort. Too much thought, to get each of his fingers to loosen enough to take his hand away.

And it’s shaking. Shaking so hard that he can _barely_ reach for the toilet paper, _barely_ gather up a few squares to tear off in an uneven line.

His face is so wet, but he can only make himself wipe his mouth.

He’s shaking. It was his hands before, but now it’s everything. And he’s exhausted. His heart is pounding. His head is spinning. He’s still sweating.

Fuck, it’s pathetic. A few minutes spent vomiting up nothing have worn him out more than the actual mission did-

The mission.

“Fuck.” His head pounds, like his goddamn _brain_ is spasming. His stomach twists again. He has to cough over the toilet, but only a bit of saliva comes out.

His fingers are itching. Right where they’d held the string. Right where he’d let go. Released the arrow. He can still see it. The clear shot. Toward the demon. One shot, that’s all it was going to take.

Izzy, jumping down onto the tracks. Whip lashing out, in the same direction as the arrow.

Shouting. He’d shouted. He’d shouted as loud as he could. He did. He tried. He _tried._ He can feel it in his throat, feel how much force he’d put into it as he yelled. It just wasn’t enough.

Of course it wasn’t. It’s never enough, he’s never enough, he never does enough he never does it right he fucks up it’s what he _does_ so of course he fucked this up. Of course he fucked up, and didn’t do enough. Of course he hurt someone. He hurts things. It’s his job. It’s _literally_ is his job, it’s what he’s been trained to do his whole life, it’s the only thing he knows _how_ to do so of course he ended up hurting her. It was inevitable. All he knows how to do is hurt people, and now he’s hurt Isabelle, of course he did, of course he hurt her, that’s what he does, he hurts people, he hurts her.

“Fuck, _fuck._ ” Alec slumps back, sitting on his heels. His face is still dripping onto his lap. He tries to reach up, tries to grip his hair, tries to give himself that sting of sharp pain to distract him from everything else, tries focus it somewhere else, tries to hurt-

He can’t make his hands tighten. Can’t grip. His fingers curl into his hair, but he can’t make them squeeze. They just tangle. Limp. Shaking too much. Too weak.

“Fuck fuck fuck fucking fuck _fuck!”_

Shouting makes him cough again. Cough another strand of spit into the toilet. Spit and snot and tears and sweat and his mouth still tastes like acid, it’s like he’s spitting out acid-

There’s a knock.

It’s quiet, Alec can tell that it’s quiet. But it feels loud. It’s unexpected, and sharp, and sudden, which makes it loud. It hurts his head.

“Alexander?”

No.

No, no, no no no, please, no _no no-_

He’s not supposed to be here. He’s supposed to be gone. He’s supposed to be out all night. He has plans. He was working, and then he had plans. He’s supposed to be out at some club, having a good time, he’s not supposed to get home until dawn. He’s not supposed to see Alec. He was gonna crawl into bed in the middle of the night. Alec wasn’t gonna see him until morning. He’s not supposed to be here, he’s not supposed to see this.

And he wasn’t here. The door was locked. The loft was empty. When Alec got here, the loft was empty. He must not have heard Magnus come in.

Unless Magnus just… appeared. Portaled himself in from wherever he was, wherever he’s supposed to be-

_Fuck._

The door wasn’t closed. Alec hadn’t thought to close it. So when Magnus knocks again it gently swings open, enough to let him in.

He can see him. Alec’s eyes are squeezed shut, but he knows Magnus can see him. Crumpled on the floor. In front of the unflushed toilet. His face dripping. Shaking.

Magnus is seeing him like this.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Even though it’s pointless, and it’s useless, and it’s so, _so_ stupid, Alec’s first instinct is to figure out how to get away. To hide. To keep Magnus from seeing.

But he _knows_ it's too fucking late and Magnus is right here and he’s looking at him and it’s fucked, it’s all fucked, it’s so goddamn fucked-

Alec’s stomach twists. With enough force to get him bent over the toilet again. Coughing. Choking.

It’s all so fucked. It’s so wrong. Magnus isn’t supposed to be here. He isn’t supposed to see Alec like this. Alec isn’t supposed to be like this in the first place. He isn’t supposed to be this weak. He isn’t supposed to fuck up like this. He’s supposed to be better than this. He’s supposed to be stronger than this. He’s supposed to be the leader. He’s supposed to _protect_ them. He’s supposed to hurt demons. He’s not supposed to hurt his family.

It’s all a fucking mess now. Because he hurts things. It’s what he does. It’s what he’s always done. He hurts demons. And now he hurts Izzy. He hurts people. It’s what he does. It’s all he knows how to do.

He coughs again. One of the disgusting, pained, _painful,_ heaving coughs.

“Alexander,” Magnus says, and he sounds so faint, so blurry, like he’s not even in the room. But he is, he’s right here, he’s-

He’s getting closer.

Alec manages to turn his head, and he sees Magnus, walking toward him. Starting to kneel on the floor next to Alec. Starting to reach his hand-

“No!” Alec doesn’t mean to shout it, but he does. His arms fly up instinctively, tensed awkwardly by his head - which is still mostly ducked over the toilet. It’s like… a cage. He’s making a cage around himself. “No, n-no, no, _please,_ you c- you can’t-”

His throat is rough. His mouth is dry. He tastes acid. His voice is hoarse. But he has to get this out.

“Y- _ah._ You can’t. You can’t touch me. Please. You- you can’t _touch_ me-”

He’s cut off by another cough. It’s enough to make him slump over the toilet, his elbows on the seat, holding his sweaty forehead in his shaking hands.

He hears Magnus move next to him.

And Alec flinches away. Shifts his weight awkwardly to one side. Whatever he can do. However he can get away from Magnus.

Because he hurts people. He hurts people, that’s what he does, that’s all he knows how to do, and if he can hurt Izzy, he can hurt Magnus. If Magnus gets too close, if Magnus touches him-

Alec hurts people. Without wanting to. He doesn’t know how he let himself hurt Isabelle.

He can’t hurt Magnus too.

The thought, the _fear_ of it, makes his head pound. Makes a stupid sound come out of his throat. Makes him move farther away from Magnus. As far as he can make his body move.

He doesn’t get very far. He just slumps a little further. Sinks a little further into himself. Slouches.

“Alright, Alec,” Magnus says quietly. Calmly. How is he calm right now?

Alec can’t make himself look up. He tries, but his body won’t cooperate.

But still, he can tell that Magnus hasn’t moved again. He doesn’t feel close. He’s not trying to touch him.

And that’s a relief.

And Alec _hates_ that it’s a relief.

Alec hears some more pathetic noises come out of his mouth. He wants to stop them, but he can’t. They come out whenever he opens his mouth. And he can’t close his mouth, or he won’t be able to breathe.

Won’t be able to breathe.

He won’t…

He isn’t…

He isn’t breathing.

One of his hands is on the floor, propping him up. The other is in his hair. He tugs. Pulls. Yanks on his hair, as hard as he can. Still coughing. Still choking.

“Alec, take a breath.”

Fuck.

Magnus is so calm. He’s so quiet. He’s so far away. His voice is muffled. Alec can barely hear him.

Alec’s throat tenses, trying to get out words. Sound. Anything. It takes too many tries. “C-can’t.”

“Try,” Magnus says. It’s firm. It’s not a command, but it’s not a request either. “Come on. Breathe in.”

Alec gasps. But he doesn’t actually take in any air. It’s just the sound. Just the motion. He gasps again. It’s all getting stuck high in his chest. It’s not getting deep enough. It’s not getting to his lungs.

“Try again,” Magnus instructs, still so infuriatingly _calm._

Alec hates this. He hates it. He hates everything about this. Hates how his body feels, how _sick_ he feels, how his clothes are soaked through with sweat, how he can’t even make himself breathe, how Magnus is seeing this, how Magnus is so calm about it, how he can’t even do what Magnus is telling him to…

He gasps again. And it gets a little deeper. Not much - it’s not like it’s anything near a _deep_ breath, but it at least fills his lungs.

“Good. Now let it out, slowly.”

Alec falls forward a bit, with his weight on his arms to hold him up. His head pounds with a pain so intense that it makes his eyes water. Makes tears run down his face.

Magnus is telling him how to breathe. Helping him. Instructing him.

Alec can’t even _breathe_ without needing someone else’s help. Someone telling him what to do.

He’s never felt this weak before. He’s never been so pathetic. Crumpled on the bathroom floor, shaking, crying, with his boyfriend giving him step-by-step instructions just so he can fucking breathe.

The air shakes out of him. Faster than he wants it to.

And Magnus just starts over. Tells him to breathe in. Tells him to let it out.

Tells him to breathe in.

Tells him to let it out.

In.

Out.

Again.

And again.

In…

Out…

In…

Until Alec doesn’t need prompting anymore. Until he’s not forcing himself. Not thinking about it. Just… breathing.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been. Since Magnus got home. Since Alec went into the bathroom. Since Alec left the Institute. It’s all blurred together. All he can really tell is that… he’s here. He’s breathing.

His heart is still pounding. But not like before, not like it’s working too hard. Before, it was like he was running. And now, he’s stopped. His heart is still racing, but he can feel it trying to calm back down.

It’s quiet now. Magnus isn’t saying anything. Alec sure as fuck _can’t_ say anything. He’s just breathing.

By the Angel, he’s so tired.

And he’s still shaking a little bit. Little unsteady tremors in his limbs. Sometimes running down his spine like a chill. His throat is still raw. His mouth still tastes faintly like acid. There are still tears on his face. And sweat. And spit. And whatever else has been dripping off of him this whole time. He feels disgusting.

“Here, this should help.”

Alec feels something next to him. The tiny suggestion of movement that happens when Magnus makes something appear. It takes too much effort, but he manages to look over.

There are two washcloths on the floor next to Alec. One wet, one dry.

Alec would laugh, if he could. He’s never been able to understand how Magnus can read his mind like this.

He opens his mouth to say ‘thanks’, but nothing comes out. Just a particularly noisy breath.

He takes the wet one first. It’s _wonderfully_ cold. And it feels amazing as he scrubs it roughly across his face. He digs it up into his hairline. He wipes it over his eyes. He scrapes it across his chin. It’d probably feel better to just dunk his whole head in a bucket of ice water, but this is good enough for now.

He’s a bit nicer with the dry washcloth. He pats down his face, his neck, his hands. And he-

He doesn’t feel okay. That’s still too much. But he feels… whatever’s a little less okay than ‘okay’. It’s survivable. He’s exhausted. He still feels sick to his stomach. But he at least feels like he’s done. With that.

Maybe.

Once his body finally shuts up for a second, his mind starts working again. And, of course, it immediately works too hard.

He doesn’t know why Magnus is here. Magnus had plans. Magnus left the loft before Alec did this morning, and he wasn’t supposed to come home at all. He shouldn’t be here. Alec doesn’t know why-

Oh.

Of course he does.

“Isabelle called you.” Alec’s voice sounds like gravel in a blender. Hell, it feels a bit like that too.

“Actually, I called her.”

_Fuck._

Alec grits his teeth. Squeezes his eyes shut.

Alec forgot to text Magnus, after the mission. He’d been too preoccupied with Izzy. He’d been too worried. He’d been too panicked.

And then he’d just… forgotten.

Which - fucking _fuck_ \- which means that the buzzing he’d felt in his back pocket on his way back to the loft _wasn’t_ Izzy calling him. It was Magnus. It was Magnus calling him, because Alec had forgotten to get a hold of him after the mission. To let him know that he was alright.

Fuck. It’s been two years. It’s been two goddamn years and Alec _knows better._ After every mission, every damn time he knows he’s going somewhere where he could get hurt, he texts Magnus when it’s done. Or calls him. Or does _anything,_ anything at all, to let Magnus know he’s okay.

And this time, he… didn’t. It hadn’t even crossed his mind. Magnus had fucking _called him,_ and Alec hadn’t even thought to look at his phone, much less answer it.

“She told me what happened,” Magnus continues, still sounding so calm. Too calm. He should be angry. He should be furious with Alec right now. And he’s so fucking calm instead. “And she said you weren’t doing very well when you left the Institute. I thought I’d check up on you.”

That’s enough to make Alec’s eyes sting again. His stomach twists, and this time it’s with guilt. “You had plans,” he says quietly.

Magnus hums. “I’d rather be here right now.”

Alec’s head tilts to the side, still hanging low toward his chest, eyes still closed. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“You don’t get to tell me what I feel, Alexander.”

That-

That’s finally enough to make Alec look up. It takes a _stupid_ amount of effort to lift his head. And his vision goes a little blurry when he turns to look at Magnus. He has to blink before Magnus comes into focus.

And he’s just… there. Kneeling on the bathroom floor. With his hands in his lap. He’s dressed up - and it’s definitely _not_ what he was wearing when he left for that meeting this morning. This is a ‘going out’ outfit. Alec doesn’t know if he snuck home for a few minutes to change, or if he just magicked himself into something fancier (if that’s the right word for it) before going out. But regardless, this is clearly what he was wearing at the club. He looks beautiful. By the Angel, he’s _gorgeous._ And he’s…

He’s kneeling there. Looking at Alec. Calm. Invested. He’s not angry. He’s not disappointed. He’s just…

Here.

Alec should say something. He knows he should. Dammit, there has to be _something._

But Magnus beats him to it. “Do you feel any better?”

Alec almost wants to laugh. “I can’t tell.” Because he sure as fuck doesn’t feel good. He doesn’t feel anywhere _near_ good. But he’s… quieter now. It’s a soft sort of sickness. Still guilt. Still exhaustion. Still… something bad. But it’s not as… fast, anymore. It’s slow. Still bad, but calm, at the very least.

Magnus raises an eyebrow. “I’m sure you already know this, but Isabelle made me promise to reiterate to you that she’s perfectly fine.”

Shit.

The guilt twists his stomach again.

“That’s not-” Alec swallows. It stings, scratches, _aches_ in his throat. “That’s not important.”

Magnus makes a small sound of surprise. “Isabelle’s well-being isn’t important?”

“No- _yes,_ of course, I just. I mean- _fuck._ ” Alec squeezes his eyes shut again. “I… I h-” He needs to make himself say it. He needs to say it. It’s not a choice, he _has_ to say it. “I hurt-”

Dammit. Godfuckingdammit.

His chest tightens again. His words get wrung out into a wheeze. His head starts pounding again. His lungs are burning.

“Alec,” Magnus’s voice gets closer. Not like he’s moving, maybe just leaning forward. Either way, it’s not like Alec’s actually looking at him anymore. “Alec, hey, listen to me, keep breathing.”

Alec hears Magnus breathe in. Exaggerated. Sustained. Setting an example.

So Alec tries to match him. Breathes in for as long as he does, holds it until he hears Magnus let it out. It takes a few tries for him to be able to take a breath that deep, and to exhale that evenly without needing to choke in again before Magnus stops.

He still needs help to breathe. And he still hates himself for it. But this time… he can at least appreciate it. Acknowledge Magnus’s help for what it is.

So when Alec can breath on his own again, he nods. After another few seconds, he forces himself to look over at Magnus. And he makes himself smile - the best he can, anyway.

He wants to say thank you. He wants to say he loves him. He wants to say something that’s enough. Nothing could really be enough, especially in a situation like this. But he at least wants to try.

So it’s unbearably disappointing when all he can manage to do is cough weakly and say, “That… that really helps.”

But even though it’s pathetic, even though it’s nowhere near enough, Magnus still smiles at him. And he raises his eyebrows, just for a second. “Well, I’ve spent too much time in corsets to not pick up a few good breathing tips.”

Alec laughs. It’s startled out of him, so it sounds weird, and jumpy, and weak. But it’s a laugh. It’s real. “When have you worn a corset?”

Magnus scoffs, and he sounds genuinely offended. “Only every day for a _decade_ at the beginning of the nineteenth century.” He lifts his chin. “How else was I going to achieve the right silhouette?”

Alec laughs again, and this time it actually sounds somewhat like regular laughter. Still quiet, still tired. But it’s something.

And Magnus just keeps smiling at him. But it gets softer as the seconds pass. Subtler. Until it’s just a tiny lift in the corner of his mouth. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Alec sighs (and he’s oddly grateful that he’s breathing steadily enough to be able to do that). He’s calmed down considerably, but the second he even _thinks_ about having to talk, his hands start shaking against the floor.

But Magnus isn’t going to let this go. Izzy isn’t going to let this go. Hell, even Jace wouldn’t stop bugging him about it before he left the Institute. He’s going to need to talk about this, at some point. It’s inevitable. But the thought of having to do that _right now,_ when it’s still so goddamn fresh, when he hasn’t had any time to gather his thoughts and actually figure out what he’s feeling, when his hands still shake when he thinks about it…

“No,” Alec says, and even if it’s not helpful, he at least takes comfort in the fact that it’s honest. “Not yet.”

Maybe later. After he stops shaking. After he stops feeling sick. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe in a few days. Definitely not right now.

“Alright,” Magnus says lightly. He doesn’t fight. He doesn’t try to push. Even though Alec knows he wants to.

Alec makes another attempt at a smile. “You should-” he cuts himself off, shakes his head. That’s bad phrasing. “You can head back out now. You don’t have to stay here. I’m… I’ll be fine.”

“The club will still be there tomorrow, Alexander.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have tomorrow night off.” Alec still can’t bear the thought that he’s ruined Magnus’s first night off in _weeks._ He already feels guilty enough about everything else, he doesn’t need _this_ too.

But Magnus isn’t having it. “I’ll make it work.”

“Mags,” Alec says, and he hates how much it sounds like outright pleading.

They just sort of… stare each other down, for a few moments. Alec’s pretty sure the look on his face is damn near pathetic, but he can’t make himself change it.

And, eventually…

Magnus takes a deep breath, and sighs it out. Much more dramatically than necessary. “I’ll go back later. _Much_ later,” he adds sternly. “It’s still early.”

Alec didn’t realize he was tense, but hearing that is enough to make his shoulders sag with relief. “Deal.”

Magnus sits up a little taller. It looks like he’s preparing himself for something. He’s putting on his Business Face.

Given the situation, it’s a little off-putting.

“Now, do you want to know what I think you should do?”

Alec feels his face scrunch up. It’s not that he’s uninterested in Magnus’s advice, he’s just not sure why Magnus looks so _serious_ about it. “Sure?”

“I think you should shave your legs.”

A little sound gets out of Alec before he can stop it. It’s like a laugh, but it’s so sudden that it punches out more like a cough. It’s a little cough-laugh.

Because it’s a joke. Right?

“Are you serious?”

Magnus’s expression doesn’t change. “Completely.”

“Wh-” Alec tries to think ahead, tries to answer the question before he asks it. But he’s got nothing. “Why?”

Magnus’s posture slouches back down a bit. Unevenly, all to one side. Like he can tell that being so severe about this is strange, and now he’s trying to be gentle instead. Casual. Conversational. “Well, the last time something like this happened, you tried shaving. And you said it helped.”

That-

Alec had thought his face was a scrunched as possible, but apparently there was a bit more furrowing to be done with his eyebrows. Everything constricts a little more.

It’s…

Yeah. At face value, that statement is true. Something like this happened. Alec shaved. And he felt better. But-

But the situation was different. But that was over a year ago. But that was because having that hair was _causing_ the problem. But this is nothing like that. There’s too many buts.

“I… I don’t-” Alec works his lips. Grinds his teeth. Tries to string together a full sentence of words. “I _needed_ to do that. It was, ah…” his voice trails off.

He’d talked to Magnus about it. The day after it happened. He hadn’t really meant to, but then Magnus had responded _very_ positively to Alec’s shaved skin and he’d made the tiniest comment about it and Alec had just… spat it all out. The whole thing. How horrible it had been, and how horrible he’d felt, and how horrible he’d _looked._ And how he’d shaved. To fix it.

So Magnus should _know_ that this situation is different.

“That time, it only-” Alec’s throat is too dry, too strained. It makes his voice break. He swallows, as hard as he can, several times. It doesn’t do much. “The hair was the… the problem. Shaving only helped because it- it- ah.” He swallows again. “It got rid of it. That’s why it helped. This isn’t the same. I don’t mind my legs.”

And, in any other situation, he’d probably laugh at that. That there’s some part of his body that he actually likes, without having to do a damn thing to alter it. That there’s _one thing_ about himself that he’s never hated. And apparently, it’s his goddamn leg hair.

It’s ridiculous.

But Magnus doesn’t seem to see the bitter humor. Because he looks just as serious as before. Gentle, but still serious. “That’s entirely understandable.” He presses his lips together. His eyes narrow, just a bit.

He’s thinking. Alec can see that he’s thinking about what he wants to say. That’s unusual. In situations like this, when he’s talking about Alec, he normally just… knows. Exactly what he wants to say. Immediately.

But it’s just a little moment. It doesn’t last very long.

“I’m not saying that that _isn’t_ why it helped you,” Magnus says firmly. “But… do you think there’s any chance that _another_ reason it helped is that when you were feeling so panicked, you did something relaxing? Sitting in some nice, hot water, doing something simple, and repetitive, and small. Do you think it might have helped to sit, and breathe, and… focus on something else, for a little while?”

Alec looks down at the floor. His face is still tight. Still constricted.

That…

He’s never thought of it like that. At the time, it had felt so… connected. He hated the hair. He got rid of it. He felt better. Every time he’s shaved since then (it had been every single day at first, but by now it’s leveled out to just once or twice a week), he’s assumed that was it.

But thinking about it like this-

“That…” Alec sighs. “That makes a lot of sense.”

“It’s just an idea,” Magnus says, a little _too_ lightly. “If it doesn’t help, you don’t have to do it.” His voice perks up a bit. “And if you don’t like it, I will poof all of your little hairs right back into place.”

Alec laughs weakly, and looks up at him. “You know how to regrow leg hair?”

Magnus shrugs. “Admittedly, I’ve never tried. But I’ve regrown just about every other type of hair imaginable. I’m sure it’s a similar principle.”

Alec keeps a smile for as long as his face can manage it.

And then he… thinks.

Sitting on the edge of the tub. Maybe even sitting in it, with his leg up on the edge. Hot water. The nice smell of his shaving cream. That fancy lotion Magnus bought for him a few weeks ago.

He likes shaving. It’s familiar. Easy. Almost, kinda comforting, in a way.

And his legs would be a hell of a lot more surface area than he’s used to. A lot more time. A lot more opportunity. And-

And a lot more smooth skin, once he’s done.

Some time to think about something else. Time to himself (and Alec can’t help but realize how difficult it must be for Magnus to intentionally offer for Alec to be by himself at a time like this. He knows Magnus wants to help. He knows Magnus wants his presence to be helpful to Alec, not his absence. It’s… it means a lot, for Magnus to willingly offer to leave him right now). Time to calm down. Time to-

Huh.

Time to make his legs soft, and smooth. Time to make himself pretty.

“I think-” Alec clears his throat. “I think it’s a good idea.”

Magnus smiles. He looks… fuck. He looks so much happier than he should, right now. He shouldn’t be happy. He shouldn’t be happy about any of this. He should be so upset. That Alec didn’t call him after the mission. That he had to come home and deal with all of this. That Alec ruined his night.

He shouldn’t be smiling.

But he is.

After a moment, he snaps his fingers.

The washcloths that Alec had dropped onto the floor next to him disappear. And in their place are Alec’s best razor, and his shaving cream.

And Alec feels… better. Still not good - he’s still far from that - but better. Just thinking about what he’s going to do. Well, maybe it’s just because there’s something he’s going to do at all. He has a plan. A plan to help make himself feel better. That’s… comforting.

Magnus stands up, and he-

Ah.

As he’s getting up, he leans over a bit, and flushes the toilet.

And that’s just enough to make Alec’s insides twist again. That little reminder that Magnus is here. That he saw this. Magnus had to fix him. Magnus had to help him breathe. Magnus saw him coughing into the toilet. And now, Magnus is the one who’s flushing away Alec’s vomit.

Alec closes his eyes. Breathes.

It’s fine.

He’s fine.

He’ll be fine.

It’s already done.

He picks up the razor and the shaving cream.

“Take your time,” Magnus says, and the nonchalance in his voice only sounds _slightly_ forced. “I’m going to go get something started for dinner.”

“Mags-” Alec chokes out, stumbling shakily up to his feet, “ _please,_ you don’t have to…” he can’t make his voice work long enough to finish.

Magnus raises his eyebrows. “I’m _hungry,_ Alexander. I haven’t eaten yet.” He tilts his head, with a little smirk. “Not everything is about _you,_ you know.”

He…

Alec laughs. His shoulders slump a little. He sags a bit. With relief. It’s the first time his body has felt… relaxed. Probably the first time since the mission.

Still, he wants to be sure.

“You can leave whenever you want,” Alec says as firmly as his voice will allow. “You don’t have to wait for me.”

Magnus’s smirk softens. Changes. Into a smile. His little smile. The one that’s just for Alec. “I know I don’t have to.”

And that’s-

Alec has to say something. He has to. He can’t _not_ say something to that. How thankful he is, how grateful. How he understands what Magnus is doing for him. What Magnus always does for him. How much he loves him. He has to tell him.

But his throat closes up. His chest tightens. Just thinking about what he wants to say, thinking about what he’s feeling, it makes his eyes sting. If he even tries to open his mouth, he thinks it’ll break him. If he thinks about it a second longer, he’s gonna fall apart.

He blinks. Too much. His jaw trembles.

Magnus doesn’t stop smiling, but his eyebrows tilt up a bit.

“I know, darling.”

And he does. Alec doesn’t understand how (he’s _never_ been able to understand how), but he does. He understands all of it.

Magnus understands enough that he even knows not to stay, after that. He just leaves, gently closing the bathroom door behind him.

He knows to leave so that Alec can wipe the few stray tears off of his face without being seen.

Alright.

He’s alright.

He can do this.

By the Angel, it feels like Alec’s had to restart himself a dozen different times since he got here. Just the idea of getting himself back under control and moving on to the next thing is _exhausting._ He’s exhausted. He’s so fucking exhausted.

Alright.

He’s gonna focus now.

He’s gonna be done with all of that.

He can do this.

He can do this.

He…

He actually wants to do this. He thinks he does, anyway. He’s certainly never thought about it before, so he’s still not entirely sure how he feels. But…

Why wouldn’t he like this? Hell, why hasn’t he wanted this before?

He definitely wants to shave right now. Magnus completely convinced him of that. Shaving sounds wonderful. Alec loves shaving, in that weird, necessary way. Like how he ‘loves’ doing laundry. He doesn’t really love actually _doing_ it. He just loves having it done. It’s familiar. It’s comfortable. And he loves the outcome.

And, in this case…

Smooth legs.

His legs, completely soft. Without all of that rough hair.

Alec likes his legs. He… he can’t quite say that he _always_ has, but at the very least, they’ve never been quite as bad as everything else. Maybe just because he’s never _dealt_ with them as much. For most of his life, he just threw on jeans first thing in the morning and never gave his legs another thought. He didn’t actually _see_ them enough to really think about them the way he used to think about the rest of his body.

And more recently, with the panties, with garters, with _stockings…_

Yeah. He actually… likes them.

He likes them quite a bit.

And now, like this, what will-

He’d shaved his pubic hair last night. That’s already soft, and smooth. And now, with his _legs_ like that too…

Alec wonders how much nicer silk stockings will feel on legs that are already smooth. How much nicer that little bit of shimmer will look, the lace trim at the top, on smooth skin, smooth skin under his stockings spanning all the way up to his panties. Soft lace, with nothing but soft skin underneath it. How it’ll feel under his fingertips. Under Magnus’s fingertips.

How pretty he’ll look.

How pretty he’ll feel.

His hands are still shaking a bit. His stomach is still twisted up in painful knots. He still feels queasy. And weak.

But now, he has a plan.

He sets down the razor and the shaving cream on the edge of the tub.

Should he use an electric razor first? To get the bulk of the hair out of the way? This might be too much for his regular razor. It’ll probably be annoying as hell to keep cleaning the hair out from between the blades every two seconds. How does he shave his knees? They’re so rough, and dry (no matter how much lotion he uses). How does he reach the backs of his thighs? Does he… Does he shave his ass, too? What does-

There’s a bit of rustling behind him. Just a little bit of sound. But he didn’t hear the door open. Has the Chairman been hiding in here the whole time? Alec turns around-

There’s a robe, neatly folded, on Alec’s side of the counter.

It’s his favorite robe. Dark blue, cashmere, with his initials embroidered on the little breast pocket in silver thread.

And lying next to the robe, panties.

Alec smiles, and blinks a little too hard.

Pink, lace in the front, satin in the back, a little bow at the top.

Magnus always knows. Alec doesn’t understand how, but Magnus _always_ knows.

He’s gonna make this up to him. Somehow. He doesn’t have a fucking clue how he could _possibly_ do something to make up for this complete and utter clusterfuck, but still. He’s gonna do something. A nice date. Or a gift. There has to be something. He has to be able to do _something_ for Magnus. Something to make him understand.

Alec’s stomach twists again. He can still taste bile in his throat.

Alright.

He can’t do anything for Magnus right now. Not like this. Not while he’s shaking and sick and _still_ not breathing properly. He’s a wreck. He won’t be able to do a damn thing for Magnus until he manages to put himself back together.

But after that, he will. He’ll find something. Figure something out. Soon.

Right now, he’s going to deal with this. He’s going to calm down, and get himself functioning again. Right now, he’s going to take a bit of time to fix this. To make himself feel better. To make himself feel pretty.

Right now, he’s going to shave his legs.

 

* * *

 

Alec’s lungs are burning. Sweat has been gathering on his forehead for several minutes now, and it’s finally starting to drip off. It lands on the floor in a series of little plops, but he’s too tense to notice it. Everything in his body is straining too much. His legs are shaking. His stomach aches.

Fuck, his arms hurt.

It shouldn’t be this bad. He should still be fine. It’s only been-

Oh.

Huh.

How many has it been?

“Max, what’s the count?”

Max shifts a little on his back. His elbows dig into Alec’s shoulder blades. “Huh?”

Alec closes his eyes. Sighs heavily out his nose. “Max, are you counting?”

Max shifts a bit more. “There’s, t- ummmm… three left.”

Alec grits his teeth. And he forces himself through another push up.

 _Fuck,_ his arms hurt.

He hopes Max _really_ lost count a while ago. He hopes he’s doing more than usual. He hopes he’s not struggling this much with a regular set.

He hasn’t been slacking _that_ much lately. Just a little.

Just a… medium-sized amount.

“Y’know,” Alec grits out as he holds himself up (well, holds them _both_ up), “if you’re not gonna bother counting for me, maybe I’ll start doing this without you.” He blinks a bit of sweat out of his eyes. “Use a sandbag, or something.”

Max makes a little noise of protest. “Sandbags can’t count!”

“Then they’d be just as helpful as you are right now,” Alec retorts calmly.

 _“Daaaaaad,”_ Max whines.

“Maaaaaax,” Alec replies, matching his tone. He manages another push up-

And he only _barely_ feels like his arms are going to give out before he manages to actually push them up.

“If you keep growing up, I’m not gonna be able to do this anymore.” Alec shifts his fingers against the floorboards, trying to gather up any residual energy tucked away in his body. Just one push up left. Just one more. “This was a lot easier when you were a toddler.”

And back then, Max was a lot more invested in actually _counting_ for him, too. Because counting was still relatively new and exciting for him, and he liked having Alec follow his count. He liked being the authority in the situation.

“Shouldn’t you be getting stronger just as much as I’m getting bigger?” Max asks.

Alec would laugh if he could breathe a little better. “In theory.”

He takes a deep breath. It stings in his lungs.

One more.

He can do one more.

Fuck, it's just a fucking push up. He can do a fucking push up. Just because he's (presumably) been doing more than usual, that doesn't mean he can give up now.

He lowers himself.

And pushing back up must be what dying feels like.

But he makes it (albeit with a rather unattractive grunt of effort - and a touch of pain). And he _immediately_ gives up, letting his knees hit the floor.

He jerks his head to one side. “Scoot.”

Max disappears off of his back, and reappears on the couch. But his placement is a little _off_ (he’s still getting the hang of it), so he technically appears a few inches above the couch, and lands in an inelegant little heap on the cushions.

The combination of taking his weight off of his arms _and_ losing the seven-year-old weight off of his back makes Alec whimper a little in relief.

By the Angel, he’s really starting to lose it. He’s only been skipping his morning workouts for a few days, maybe a week - more days than he _should,_ but still. It shouldn’t be this much of a struggle to get back into things.

He _definitely_ shouldn’t be this sweaty. Especially not this early. He’s still only halfway through the usual workout, but he feels like he’s moments away from melting into a puddle.

And he’d been so confident before he started that he didn’t even grab himself a towel.

While it’s certainly not his favorite option, he doesn’t really have another choice. He lifts the hem of his t-shirt and uses it to wipe the sweat off of his face. He’ll just have to take extra special care of the shirt the next time he washes it. It’s his favorite, after all. Always has been, ever since Magnus gave it to him.

(Alec had been absolutely terrified on his thirtieth birthday. Magnus isn’t exactly known for getting him _small_ gifts. He’d gone overboard on numerous occasions that were much less ‘special’ than a milestone birthday like that. Alec was afraid that Magnus would completely lose it and buy him something stupidly extravagant. Like a mansion. Or a boat. So it had been an honest, genuine, _wonderful_ surprise when Magnus’s only gift for him had been a t-shirt. Plain white, short sleeves, with the phrase “Ask Me About My Kids” printed on it in giant purple letters. Alec doesn’t think he’s ever loved a piece of clothing this much before.)

With his workout duties fulfilled - to his standards, anyway - Max immediately checks out of the situation, and busies himself with making all the throw pillows on the couch switch places. He’s been able to move one object at a time for years now, but he’s absolutely _determined_ to learn how to move multiple things at once.

Unsurprisingly, Alec gets a pillow in the face almost instantly. Max still hasn’t quite mastered creating multiple trajectories.

Max keeps practicing, sitting on the couch with his legs crossed, his hands raised, and his tongue sticking up out of the corner of his mouth.

And Alec keeps breathing, trying to psyche himself up for the rest of his workout.

Now that his head isn’t pounding with the strain of his body, the background noises of the apartment come back into focus. Today, it’s more than just the usual ‘Saturday Morning’ noises.

First, there’s the general clatter in the kitchen. Jace is making lunch. Alec can hear the fridge open and close. Then a drawer. Alec bets it’s sandwiches. It’s usually sandwiches, with Jace.

Then, it’s the music from the boys’ bedroom. A slow, uneven song. Starting and stopping. Starting, going wrong, stopping, being corrected, starting again. A few measures at a time. It’s Simon and Rafe-

No.

Rafael.

Rafael, not Rafe.

(It’s only been three days since Rafael specified that he _only_ wants to be called Rafael from now on. No more Rafe. Alec still slips up sometimes.)

Simon and Rafael. Simon’s teaching him a new song. Rafael has his keyboard, and Simon has his ukulele. And for the most part, it’s already sounding like a complete song. It’s a little rough, but still. It sounds nice.

And it’s a nice excuse for Rafael to stay holed up in the bedroom for the rest of the afternoon. He and Max aren’t speaking to each other today, for whatever reason. It’s only been going on since yesterday morning, so Magnus and Alec aren’t particularly worried about it yet. But still, they figured it’d probably be best to make sure they have two babysitters today, just to avoid some unnecessary tension.

Because Magnus and Alec are going to be gone all day. Possibly all night, they haven’t decided yet. They’re leaving in a couple of hours, and Jace and Simon have said they can be gone as long as they damn well please.

And that’s certainly a relief. Because they need this. They really need this.

It’s not like things have been… bad. It’s not necessarily that. But they’ve been…

Alec doesn’t even know. Strained? Weird?

There’s always something. That’s what the problem is - the _amount_ of problems. There’s always a problem or a conversation or a _thing_ and that's all it is. It’s not that they’ve been spending any less time together than usual. It’s just that when they get to spend time together, it happens to be for shitty reasons. When they manage to scrape together a few minutes to really talk to each other, there’s something they need to talk about and it’s usually not pleasant. Alec can’t quite pinpoint when it started, but it feels like it’s probably been at least two months since they had a full conversation that didn’t turn into an argument.

It’s not bad. He knows it’s not bad. It’s just a weird time. A string of weird times. It’s not bad. It’s certainly far from the worst things have ever been between them.

But still, it’s enough. Enough for them to pick a weekend to forcibly and painstakingly rearrange their schedules (and Jace and Simon’s, as it had turned out). Enough for them to set aside an entire goddamn day to go out, and spend some actual _free_ time with each other. With absolutely no other responsibilities.

Hell, just to be really, _really_ sure that nothing will interrupt them, they’re going to Florence. They’re in such bad need of a night to themselves that they’re leaving the goddamn country just to make sure no one bothers them. It might be a _bit_ of an overreaction, but Alec thinks the whole ‘desperate times’ concept applies to them by now.

It’s perfect. They’ll be gone for an afternoon in New York time, and they’ll get an entire night together in Italy. They can take a nice, long walk. Have a fancy dinner. Magnus wants to find somewhere he can go dancing, and Alec certainly doesn’t mind getting to watch that (and these days, Alec’s not entirely opposed to joining him for a song or two, provided it’s something right for slow-dancing).

By the Angel, just the idea of getting to dress up for a night out is enough to make Alec’s stomach churn with excitement. Yeah, he still maintains some sort of standard of presentation on a daily basis, but it’s nothing compared to what he actually _wants_ to do, given the proper time, energy, and occasion. The nice jeans and minimal makeup he wears to the college campus on weekdays just can’t compare to _actually_ dressing up. Taking as much time as he wants. Wearing the clothes that are so fancy that he keeps them tucked into the furthest corner of the closet (open backed, tonight. He wants to wear something with an open back. Ivory. Chiffon). Carefully painting his nails, instead of leaving whatever chipped nail polish he put on last week. Adding that extra little touch of matching his nail polish to his lingerie - and, come to think of it, just the basic excitement of putting on lingerie when there’s a chance that Magnus might actually get to _see_ it for a change.

Maybe they’ll get a hotel room, if the night plays out that way. After all, it’s been a long damn time since anything like _that_ happened between them. Maybe when Alec packs his bag before they leave, he’ll slip in some stockings. One of his favorite negligees. Just in case.

And, come to that…

If he’s going to go this far, he might as well go all-out. It’s a nice enough occasion. It’s a special night. It’s just for them.

So he might as well wear the pearls.

He owns a lot of pearl jewelry, but these are _the_ pearls. His pearls. His pink pearls - a simple, delicate, one-strand necklace, and matching drop earrings. The set that Magnus gave him almost seven years ago.

It’s funny, Alec used to only save this jewelry for the _most special_ occasions. He’d need weeks to mentally prepare himself for wearing something so pretty, so delicate, so old, with so much meaning behind it. And now, he’ll take any excuse he can get. He wonders when he transitioned from ‘I can only wear these on my wedding day’ to ‘We’re going to a halfway decent dinner so might as well’. He wonders if his reverence for the jewelry has lessened, or if his parameters for ‘special occasions’ have just widened that much.

Either way, he’s wearing them tonight. He finally gets to dress up again and he’s excited about it, dammit.

Besides, he highly doubts that Magnus will mind. Quite the opposite, actually.

Fuck. The more Alec thinks about this, the more excited he gets, and the more impatient, and the less likely to finish his goddamn workout. He just wants to ditch the apartment and the busyness and the chaos and go on a fucking date and he wants to do it _now._

What time is it? Is it still too early to wake up Magnus?

(He had a particularly difficult demon summoning last night that went well past its scheduled time _and_ managed to drain just about every last drop of Magnus’s magic. He’s fine, but he made it clear that he’s gonna need a ridiculous amount of sleep to bounce back. It’s gotta be a few hours past noon by now, and Alec still hasn’t heard a single peep from the bedroom.)

He can’t wake up Magnus. He knows that’d be shitty. A truly shitty way to start off what’s supposed to be an actual _good_ day for them. He needs to let Magnus sleep.

But that means that he _also_ needs to take his mind off of their date, or he won't be able to wait much longer.

Alec uses the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off the back of his neck. “Hey Max, did you finish your homework yet?”

“D’you finish yours?”

Alec’s eyebrows shoot upwards in surprise, but to his credit, he manages to keep himself from sputtering out a laugh. “I asked you first.” He frowns. “And I’m the dad. My homework isn’t your responsibility.”

Max makes a little groan of frustration as a pillow flies over his head and smacks lightly against the window. “I don’t wanna do mine. It’s boring.” The pillow on the floor disappears, and then lands in his lap.

Alec _does_ laugh at that, just a bit. “Are you saying you want to do mine instead? You’re gonna conjugate verbs for me?”

“Yes.” Max nods vigorously.

“You don’t speak French, bud.”

“Neither do you!”

Alec presses his lips together as hard as he can, and tries to cover his mouth as nonchalantly as possible. He can’t laugh.

He can’t laugh.

He can’t fucking laugh.

If he laughs, he loses all his authority, and then the attitude on this kid will just keep getting worse. Dammit, why does Max’s snark always have to be so goddamn funny to him?

Alec shakes his head, trying to stay serious. “I don’t have class again until Tuesday. I have more time than you. You’ve gotta finish yours today, Max.”

Max lets his head fall back onto the couch with his trademark melodramatic sigh.

And Alec has to chew on his lip to keep himself from smiling. Max may have picked up this exact expression from Magnus, but Magnus only ever does it sarcastically. Max is always _perfectly_ sincere about it.

Alec still doesn’t understand why Max finds first grade homework so horrific. Today he just has to glue some different types of leaves to a piece of paper. Alec hasn’t even been in college for three months and he already can’t keep track of how many papers he’s had to write. He’d kill to glue some leaves for a change. Hell, even Rafael’s third grade curriculum is downright rigorous compared to what Max has to do. It’s really not-

There’s a crash in the bedroom. A dull, muffled _thud._

And then a bit of clattering. A string of unidentifiable noises coming through the closed door.

Alec looks over at Max-

Max is already looking at him. Expecting an answer.

Alec raises his eyebrows, and makes a face of exaggerated embarrassment. “I think Papa fell out of bed,” he whispers, like it’s a secret.

Max snorts out a little laugh.

Alec hears the shower start. Hears the distant sound of the glass door closing - just a _bit_ louder than it should.

Okay, so nothing to worry about.

But this means that Magnus is awake, that Magnus is getting ready…

Which means that Alec is officially saying ‘fuck it’ to the rest of his workout. He’ll do it tomorrow. He’s got more important things to do today.

He starts tugging the coffee table back to its place in front of the couch, as a way of signalling the finality of his decision. He’s un-clearing the furniture. Filling in his workout space. There’s no going back now.

The shower shuts off. Alec hears the door open.

He shouldn’t be able to hear the door open. It’s not supposed to be that loud. The shower was only running for, what, thirty seconds? That’s not long enough for a shower. That’s not even long enough for the water to heat up. That’s not long enough for anything.

He hears the shower door slam.

Something twists up in his stomach. Something bad.

“Hey bud,” Alec lifts Max under the armpits and scoops him off of the couch. “Why don’t you go bug Uncle Jace for a bit?” He gives Max a bit of an extra swing to get him over the coffee table and sets him down, already pointed toward the kitchen.

Max apparently doesn’t need further encouragement, because the _moment_ his feet touch the floor, he’s off. Running around the loveseat. A little glow gathering in his hands.

“ _Without_ magic!” Alec amends firmly. Max knows damn well he’s not allowed to use magic on people without their permission. He’s been grounded for it enough times that it _must_ have sunk in by now.

Max makes it into the kitchen, and Alec doesn’t hear any sort of protest from Jace, so he assumes it’s fine.

Alright, then.

The bedroom is quiet, but Alec closes the door behind him, just in case.

The comforter is pulled almost all the way off the bed. Some of the pillows are missing. Alec looks around Magnus’s side, and- yeah. They’re on the floor. Along with Magnus’s discarded pajamas, making a little trail up to the bathroom door.

Which is open, just enough that it looks like Magnus might have shoved it closed, and it had swung back open instead of latching.

Alec knocks on the frame. “Mags? Can I come in?”

He doesn’t hear an answer. Just the sound of ragged breathing.

Shit.

He pushes the door open without waiting for permission.

Magnus is bent over the bathtub, hands clutching it so tight, it’s like it’s the only thing keeping him on his feet. He’s naked, and dripping. Like he got in the shower and got right back out, without so much as grabbing a towel.

And he’s shaking.

_Shit._

“Everything alright, babe?” Alec asks, as gently as he can.

As soon as he hears Alec’s voice, Magnus turns around.

And he _runs_ to him.

Magnus crashes into Alec with enough force to knock some of the air out of Alec’s lungs. And-

Oh.

He wraps his arms around Alec’s neck. Tucks his face between his own arm and Alec’s throat. He presses against Alec. Clings to him.

He’s shaking so hard, and breathing so loudly, and dripping so much water, that it takes Alec a few seconds to realize how hard he’s crying.

“Mags,” Alec says quietly, and he’s so goddamn stunned by the sudden force of this that his voice breaks a bit.

But he collects himself as fast as he can. And he wraps his arms around Magnus’s back (never higher than that, never his shoulders or his arms. Alec never touches Magnus’s arms when he’s like this. He never does anything that could make Magnus feel like he’s being held in place, held down, trapped). The water on Magnus’s body soaks through Alec’s clothes. The water in Magnus’s hair drips down Alec’s neck. Alec can’t even tell what’s water and what’s tears.

And for a few minutes, all Alec can do is… let it happen. He holds Magnus, holds Magnus as tight as Magnus is holding him. After a while, he figures the grip can’t be very comfortable, so he tries loosening his hold, just a little-

Magnus clutches even tighter. Like he’s afraid Alec is going to let go.

“It’s okay, Mags,” Alec whispers, pressing his face in toward the side of Magnus’s head. He splays his hands out on Magnus’s back, trying to find a way to _feel_ like he’s holding him tighter, without having to crush him. “You’re safe. I’m right here, Mags, you’re safe.”

He keeps saying it. Over and over. He keeps saying it. And he keeps holding him. And he keeps his face pressed close.

And Magnus keeps crying.

Alec wants to know what’s wrong. _Fuck,_ he doesn’t know what the fuck could have possibly happened. Yeah, he was tired as hell when he got home last night, but that was it. Just tired. That’s not anything extraordinary. Definitely not something that should lead to… this. Alec can’t remember the last time something like this happened with Magnus. Happened this _intensely,_ anyway. It’s been several months since the last time.

Or at least, since the last time Alec knew about it.

But it’s fine. It’ll be fine. Magnus just needs to get this out of his system. Then he’ll want to talk. And whatever the problem is, even if Alec can’t help at all, at least he’ll know.

He just has to wait. Just has to keep holding him. Keep whispering to him. Keep rubbing his hand across his back.

It’ll be fine.

It’ll be fine.

Magnus-

Magnus chokes. It feels like a string of little hiccups. It’s not just crying anymore. It’s getting stronger. Violent. He’s gasping, and Alec can feel his shoulders spasming, and…

He’s not breathing. He’s just hiccuping, and coughing.

“Hey, are you breathing? C’mon.” Alec takes an exaggeratedly deep breath. Holds it for a few seconds. Lets it out slowly, pursing his lips so it’s audible.

And he does it again, keeping one hand between Magnus’s shoulder blades, and the other on the small of his back.

He does it again.

And he can feel Magnus, trying to copy him.

It doesn’t work - he’s getting caught on these loud, wracking sobs. He can’t make it through a solid breath without having to cough, or cry.

But Alec just keeps going. Taking big, long, even breaths. Setting the example, making sure Magnus can feel each inhale and exhale.

And Magnus keeps trying. Alec knows how much harder it must be for him, trying to calm himself down _and_ take deep breaths _and_ get himself to stop crying, all at once. Alec hates making it seem like he wants Magnus to stop crying. But in this case, breathing is just the bigger priority.

So Alec keeps breathing.

And a few minutes later, Magnus is breathing with him. He still feels a little unsteady, and he still isn’t loosening his grip on Alec at all. But he’s not crying anymore. He’s just breathing.

After maybe another minute or two of this thick silence, just them breathing with each other, Magnus sighs.

Something about it sounds _final_ enough that Alec’s pretty sure it’s a good time to ask, “What’s going on, babe?”

Magnus makes a weak noise. “I don’t know.” And he laughs. Quiet, and wet. But it’s not the laugh that he uses when he’s trying to pretend he’s okay. It’s genuine. Maybe not like he actually thinks it’s _funny,_ but at least like he thinks it’s… amusing, maybe. Embarrassing? Whatever it is, it’s not bad. “I don’t know,” he repeats, a little firmer this time. He ducks his head a bit, wipes his face on the shoulder of Alec’s shirt (but it’s not as though Alec minds). And he leaves his head bowed, his face hidden. “I had a… weird dream. Not even _bad,_ just… strange. I felt a little off.” He laughs again, but it’s almost bitter this time. “I don’t know why the fuck I thought showering was a good idea. Water was _not_ the right choice.”

Yeah, Alec had guessed as much.

Well, he hadn’t guessed the situation. The context. He just guessed that it was the shower that triggered this.

He’s still dripping.

Alec takes one of his arms away from Magnus. Tries to reach back as gently as possible-

Magnus practically squeaks in protest, and gives Alec a desperate squeeze. “No-”

“I’m not going anywhere, Mags.” Alec presses a quick kiss to Magnus’s temple, like that’ll help prove his point. “Just…” He reaches behind him without looking, groping blindly, trying to stay as close to Magnus as possible, until-

Got it.

He manages to wrestle one of the towels off of the hook on the back of the bathroom door. Mercifully, it’s a dry one. He does his best to wrap it around Magnus’s shoulders - but with Magnus’s arms still around Alec’s neck, it doesn’t _really_ work.

But still, it’s enough to get the idea across. Because Magnus hums, and slowly, _slowly_ lowers his arms. Apparently he can only bring himself to lower them as far as Alec’s chest, but that’s at least enough for Alec to actually get the towel around him.

Alec thinks the situation might still be a bit too delicate for him to ruffle the water out of Magnus’s hair, so he just holds the towel closed with one hand, and uses the other to press it against Magnus’s back. His shoulder blades. His waist.

And when Magnus finally manages to lift his face away from Alec’s neck, Alec uses the towel to gently wipe off his face.

Magnus laughs again-

And this time, it’s the fake one. “Rather sad, isn’t it? It’s been four hundred goddamn years. You think I’d be alright by now.”

Alec scrunches up his nose. “Nah, you’re alright. You just don’t like water. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Really?” Magnus looks thoroughly unimpressed. “Because apparently I can’t even manage to take a shower without breaking down.”

Alec runs the towel down Magnus’s neck. Over his collarbone. Down onto his chest. “I’ve seen you take _hundreds_ of showers, just fine. You’re allowed to have an off day.” He starts to pull away, take a step back-

Magnus inhales sharply. His whole body tenses.

And Alec smiles. “Okay.” He steps back in, and wraps his arms around Magnus again - but with Magnus bundled up in his towel like this, Alec can only get his arms loosely around his back.

But Magnus makes such an honestly _happy_ little noise that Alec’s pretty sure he appreciates it anyway.

Alec gives them another few moments to settle.

Then, he goes for it. “How’re you feeling?”

Magnus takes a deep breath. Exhales it with a low, sad sigh. “Fine.” He closes his eyes. “I’ll be fine. Just…” he presses a little closer to Alec, “need to relax. For a bit.”

Alec does his best to brush at least _some_ of Magnus’s wet hair off of his forehead. Out of his eyes. “Do you want to reschedule tonight? Stay in, instead?”

Magnus shakes his head, eyebrows tightly furrowed. “No, I- I still want…” he trails off. Takes another deep breath. And opens his eyes to look at Alec. “I’ve _really_ been looking forward to it.”

Alec feels something tighten in his chest. It’s like his chest is trying to suck up his stomach, trying to pull it all the way into his throat.

He feels butterflies.

He smiles. “Me too.”

And Magnus smiles back at him. It’s small, but it’s there. That’s what matters.

Still, Alec wants to offer _some_ sort of help, at the very least. “We could just change the plan a bit, if you want something simpler. We could go somewhere closer. Or have dinner here. I’m sure Jace and Simon wouldn’t mind letting the boys stay at their place tonight.”

Magnus-

Huh. Alec had thought that was a pretty decent suggestion. A fair compromise.

But Magnus must not agree, because his eyes go wide with a look of absolute _horror._ “Oh, _fuck,_ ” he whispers, and he suddenly sounds as exhausted as he’s probably been feeling. “I forgot about Jace and Simon, they’re already here, aren’t they?” He closes his eyes. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

Magnus’s eyebrows tilt up. “It’s bad enough that the kids were here for this, I don’t need _those two_ in the next room hearing it.” He gives one low, bitter laugh, and lets his head fall down onto Alec’s shoulder again. “Let’s all listen to Magnus have a panic attack in the shower on a nice Saturday afternoon.”

“Mags,” Alec runs his hand across the back of Magnus’s neck, trying to make it as soothing as possible, “no one heard you. It’s fine.” And-

Alec smirks, even though Magnus can’t see it. “Do you want me to go kick them out? I’ll go kick ‘em out, and it’ll be like they were never even here. How’s that sound?”

Magnus laughs weakly against Alec’s shoulder. “You’d never be that rude, Alec.”

Alec frowns. “My husband is sad. I can be as rude as I want to anyone, if it’ll help.”

Magnus laughs again, and it’s stronger this time. Brighter. He lifts his face, but doesn’t pull away. He just presses his cheek against Alec’s. “You know you wouldn’t kick your brother out of your home.”

“Yeah, but _Simon,_ ” Alec counters, with dismissive sound.

“You like Simon.”

“He doesn’t need to _know_ that, Magnus. Jeez.” Alec shakes his head (as much as he can, with Magnus cozied up to him like this). “I’ve made it this long, there’s no point in giving up now.”

Magnus just keeps laughing, and-

Fuck. It’s such a nice sound.

Alec waits for him to settle back down. Keeping his arms around him. Still holding him as best he can. “You sure you still want to go out?”

Magnus sighs. “Yes.” He takes a preparatory breath…

And lets it back out. Like he loses his nerve. So he tries again. “But I…” He chuckles weakly. “I actually do _need_ to take a shower.”

That’s enough to finally make Alec pull away. But he doesn’t go far. He just lets his hands loop around to Magnus’s shoulders instead of his back. “Do you think you’ll be okay?” Sure, Alec understands the basic necessity of showering, but he can’t bear the thought of Magnus putting himself right through this exact same mess all over again.

Magnus smiles… but it doesn’t look very convincing. “I’ll be fine, darling.”

His face falls, a bit. The smile cracks. He works his lips, like he’s trying to find the right words. Or maybe, like he’s trying to steady his voice. And his eyes flick down to the floor. “It m- it might… help, if-” he cuts himself off with an uneven breath. And after a moment, he looks back up at Alec. “If I have someone with me?”

Oh.

Alec feels something pulse in him, starting in his chest and sinking down to the floor.

It should be a silly question. It should be flirty. It should be a fun little invitation for Alec to take a shower with him, for no reason. To fool around, maybe. It should be insincere. It should be so unimportant.

It shouldn’t put tears in Magnus’s eyes.

Alec puts a hand on Magnus’s face, gently cupping his jaw, letting his fingers trail up behind Magnus’s ear. He tries to make himself smile. “Of course.”

Magnus smiles - but it looks just about as successful as Alec’s smile feels.

But after a second, Magnus’s sincere smile twists into something stupid and playful. “Good. Will you go get Simon for me?”

Alec rolls his eyes so spectacularly that he’s afraid they’ll roll right out of his head. He shoves lightly at Magnus’s face. “Hilarious.”

Magnus seems to think so, judging by all his little giggles.

“Fine,” Alec says sternly, “I’m gonna go get him. And you’re gonna have to actually take a shower with Simon. And _everyone_ is gonna be really unhappy about it.”

Magnus moves in to Alec a bit, brushing their feet together and bumping his towel-clad elbows against Alec’s chest. “Aw, come on now, I thought you said you’d do anything to make me feel better.” (Alec actually _didn’t_ say that, but he doesn’t feel like splitting hairs.) Magnus gives a sarcastic little pout. “Does my husband not like me anymore?”

Alec gasps. “Magnus Carl Bane, how dare you.” He gently touches his other hand to Magnus’s neck. Just to feel a little closer. “You know how much I love you.”

Magnus smiles at him. The same smile he’s given Alec for almost nine years now. “And you know how much I love you, Alexander Lightwood-Bane.”

Alec bites his lip, but it doesn’t do anything to stop his smile. Apparently, a year and half still isn’t quite enough time for the novelty of that to wear off. It still sounds every bit as nice as it did the first time he’d heard Magnus say it.

Magnus is still so close to him. Magnus is still smiling at him.

It’s been weird, lately. Not bad. Not _quite_ bad, anyway. They’ve had worse. And they’d made it through that just fine.

They’re going to make it through this, too.

Magnus turns his face. Kisses Alec’s palm.

Alec hums.

Yeah. They’ll be fine.

They’ll be better than fine.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I write this entire chapter as an excuse to bring up Magnus wearing corsets in the 1800's _and_ overload everyone with post-wedding domestic details all in one place? 
> 
> The world may never know.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec’s fingers twitch a bit, and he’s not sure why.  
> It’s just a touch. Just one tiny, unimportant, impersonal point of contact. Just a touch.  
> Just a new touch. That’s all.

Magnus holds out his hand.

And for a second, Alec can’t… process it. Not for what it really is, not for the simple action. Because it’s too much. It’s too fluid. Too graceful. Alec thinks about how he expects a movement like that to be done - how _he_ would have done it. Simple. Clunky. Not something anyone would even notice, much less think twice about.

And Magnus…

Alec doesn’t know how someone can _move_ like this. He’s already spent this whole time basically fucking mesmerized by the way Magnus carries himself, the way he walks, the intense fluidity of him. But even though Alec’s thought so much about the gracefulness of Magnus’s posturing… he didn’t think that would affect the way he holds out his damn hand.

Does he have to think about it? Did he _choose_ to make it so smooth and slow, to add the extra turn of his wrist? Or is this just… how he is? Alec wonders what it looks like when Magnus does other trivial things. Picking up a pen. Pouring himself a drink. Putting on his jewelry. If it’s as unremarkable as it should be, or if it’s like this. If it’s as graceful as this was.

Alec wonders if every movement Magnus makes is this beautiful.

And-

Oh, fuck.

He needs to focus.

 _Fuck,_ what is he thinking? This isn’t some casual ‘Let’s All Stare at Magnus Bane’ party. It’s a goddamn demon summoning. Magnus didn’t hold out his hand just to mess with Alec’s head like this. He held out his hand because-

Because Alec is supposed to take it.

Alec rubs his thumb against his fingertips.

He’s so aware - he’s too aware he’s too _fucking_ aware - that this will be the first time. The first time he touches Magnus. The first bit of contact.

And what the fuck is that about? _Why_ is he aware of it? Why the fuck does he care? He doesn’t… in all his life, he doesn’t think he’s _ever_ made a point of acknowledging whether he’s touched someone. He’s pretty sure that he’s never touched the vast majority of the people he’s known. And he’s never thought about that. He’s never cared.

He’s certainly never paid any special attention to the first time he’s touched anyone. But, for whatever reason…

Alec can just barely see the dark hint of polish on Magnus’s nails. The dangling of his, what, bracelet? Is that technically a bracelet? There’s probably another name for it, something fancier, something Alec doesn’t know, some word he’s never been taught. 

Alec looks at Magnus’s fingers. His hand.

He rubs his fingertips again. He takes a deep breath.

And he puts his hand on Magnus’s.

And right away, there’s-

There’s… something.

Magnus’s fingers curl a bit, under his. It’s not much. It’s just a bit of tightening, so it doesn’t feel like two hands randomly touching. It feels like-

Holding.

Like Magnus is holding Alec’s hand.

Magnus’s hand is warm. But it’s a… a nice warmth. It’s not like Alec - whose hand may be warm, but it’s only because his fucking palms won’t stop fucking sweating. But there’s-

There’s one little spot that isn’t warm. The spot on his finger that’s cold and smooth, where Alec feels his ring instead of his skin. And it’s…

Alec swallows.

It’s nothing. It’s _nothing._

No, not even that. It is something. It’s _work._ It’s functional. They’re summoning a fucking demon right now, and this is part of it. This is necessary. This is impersonal, just one step in an impersonal process. It’s not like Magnus is just… holding his hand. Because he wants to.

He doesn’t want to. This is a job. This has a purpose. A purpose, but no meaning.

This doesn’t mean anything.

This doesn’t mean that Magnus wants to touch him.

This doesn’t mean… anything.

Alec looks up-

And Magnus is looking at him.

Magnus has been looking at him so much. The entire time they’ve been here, Magnus has been looking at him. Looking at him, this way. Saying these things.

Touching his hand.

Magnus Bane is looking at Alec, and holding his hand, and-

Something happens in Alec’s chest. Something deep, and pulsing, and… _twisting,_ and it’s too much, there are too many - there’s too much.

Magnus _has_ to be holding his hand right now. That’s not his choice. It’s a necessity. No more than a coincidence. It doesn’t even have to be Alec, it’s just that Alec happens to be the person standing next to him. It could have been any of them, and it wouldn’t have made a difference. It’s nothing.

It’s nothing.

Magnus is only holding Alec’s hand because he has to. Magnus is only looking at Alec because…

He… he doesn’t. He doesn’t have to do that. He doesn’t have to be looking at Alec. Not right now, not all the time before this, not at all.

But he is.

Alec’s fingers twitch a bit, and he’s not sure why.

It’s just a touch. Just one tiny, unimportant, impersonal point of contact. Just a touch.

Just a new touch. That’s all.

Just Magnus Bane’s touch, and Magnus Bane’s eyes, still on Alec. All night, still on Alec.

It’s getting harder to breathe. It’s too much. Fuck, _why_ is it too much? It’s pathetic, but it’s true. He can’t handle this. And he can’t let go. He can’t let go of Magnus’s hand. He’s not allowed - that’s the whole point of this.

So instead, he looks away.

And it’s a little easier. In a way. It’s easier to breathe. It’s easier to think.

Think about Magnus’s hand.

Think about the feeling of Magnus’s fingers against his. Think about how Magnus’s fingers… tighten. Just a bit. Alec might be imagining it, but it almost feels like Magnus gives his hand a… squeeze. A light, gentle squeeze.

And without thinking - before he even has the _chance_ to think - Alec squeezes back.

 

 

Alec grabs Magnus’s lapels.

It feels… necessary. He needs something, something solid to ground him. To keep him grounded.

Because the room is spinning. And the room is full of people, and they’re watching, and it’s all spinning, and the floor feels unsteady, and everything is rushing. The room. His thoughts. The blood in his veins. He can feel all of it, too chaotic, too fast. It’s all rushing.

And Magnus is steady.

He’s planted, he’s a solid point. Standing. Waiting.

Waiting for him.

So Alec clutches Magnus’s lapels, clings to the one solid thing here. The one piece of certainty he has.

And Alec kisses him.

It’s almost… numbing, for a moment. The decision of it overpowers everything else. He’s too aware of what he just did, what he’s doing-

Magnus inhales, a gasp through his nose.

And Alec can… feel it. He can feel Magnus’s breath. They’re so close, Alec can feel him _breathing._

Magnus parts his lips. So Alec does too. Because it makes sense. Without having to think about it. He just… knows. He parts his lips, and he feels Magnus’s lips part…

And he feels Magnus’s lips. He feels…

It’s just… Magnus’s lips. That’s it. That’s what he feels.

That’s all he feels.

They’re just as soft as he’d thought they’d be.

But still, he’s a little surprised by how… small this is. Just lips. Touching his. A tiny bit of wetness when his lip slips between Magnus’s. It’s small. Simple. Magnus’s lips.

Magnus breathing against his face.

The fabric of Magnus’s lapels, still clutched in his hands.

The warmth. Alec can feel warmth, everywhere their bodies are touching. Where they’re so close.

Alec doesn’t think he’s ever been close enough to someone to feel this. Close enough to… feel them, _really_ feel them. He can feel the heat of Magnus’s body, feel when his breath leaves him, feel his lips, feel when their noses bump together a bit.

He can feel so much. It’s so small, compared to what he thought it would be, but it’s also _so much._ Yeah, he’s too focused on this to notice anything else around them, but… more than that…

This is… this all he can feel. It’s all he _can_ feel. It’s so small, and it’s still overwhelming. He couldn’t feel anything else, couldn’t think about anything else, couldn’t focus on anything else. Because this is it. This is too much.

This is everything.

It’s just a kiss.

Just his first kiss.

Just his first kiss with Magnus.

_By the Angel._

Magnus’s lips are still moving against his. So gently. So easily. And Alec keeps trying to do the same. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, not really, but… he’s not really thinking about that. He doesn’t really care. He’s just… kissing Magnus.

The same way that Magnus is kissing him.

Something twists in Alec, something between his stomach and the base of his spine.

He can’t breathe.

Well, he _can._ It’s not like anything is stopping him. He could breathe, if he wanted to. He’s just… not. He’s not doing it. He doesn’t want to. It’s like that’s too… ordinary for this. Too real.

Too real. Like if he breathes - if he does something so ordinary in a moment this extraordinary - that’ll break it. Break this moment.

He’ll wake up.

But he has to breathe.

As he pulls his face back, and finally separates their lips, he realizes that if this really were a dream, this is the moment it would end.

He breathes.

And he opens his eyes.

And, Magnus-

He’s still here.

Alec’s still holding onto his lapels. They’re still standing close, _so close_ to each other.

And for the first time since he took that first step, Alec… stops. Thinks about what’s happening. What he’s doing. What he did.

Shit.

This is it, isn’t it?

He’s pulled away. He’s ended the kiss. He’s broken the moment.

It’s done now. Magnus will step back, move away from him, get some distance, put himself out of Alec’s reach.

Because Alec ruined it. Everything before this, he’d ruined it and Magnus had been angry and disappointed and Alec wasn’t supposed to get another chance, Alec didn’t _deserve_ another chance, he doesn’t- he doesn’t deserve this. It’s not like that’s changed. It’s not like this will fix anything. It’s not like Magnus wanted this. It’s not like Magnus will…

Magnus…

He’s still here. He hasn’t pulled away. Hasn’t pulled back, not even a bit. He’s still so close. His body is still right up against Alec’s. Alec can still feel the heat of him, feel the light touch of his hand on Alec’s waist. Magnus is still here. And he-

He smiles. He smiles at Alec. Just barely. Just a tiny, _tiny_ little smile. Almost too small to notice.

Almost.

So…

Oh.

Magnus- he looks like he might… might actually…

_Oh._

Alec’s heart skips a beat. Or maybe it just beats too fast. It beats in an off rhythm. It… flutters.

Magnus is still here. Still so close to him. So close. Alec is still clutching his lapels.

He’s still here.

So Alec doesn’t have to hesitate. This may be impossible, but still. It’s happening.

It’s happening.

Alec leans back in, and kisses Magnus. Again.

 

 

Magnus holds the door for him.

Which is stupid. It’s nothing. It’s a basic courtesy, it’s not like it’s some sort of _gesture._ It’s stupid.

So it absolutely should _not_ make a stupid amount of stupid butterflies swirl around in Alec’s stupid chest.

It’s just… charming. It feels old, somehow. Like it’s something Magnus only does because it’s what he was _supposed_ to do, a hundred years ago. An old habit from an older time. It’s just like the last time, on their last date - their _first_ date - when Magnus had offered Alec his arm. It’s not something people do anymore (not that Alec really _knows_ what people do on dates, but he’s pretty sure they don’t do that). But Magnus still does it. Magnus still holds the door for Alec, Magnus still puts a hand on the small of Alec’s back to nudge him in the right direction when Alec doesn’t know which way they’re going, Magnus still offers Alec his arm when they walk-

Well, he _had_ done that, anyway. Last time.

He’s not doing it this time. They get out of the restaurant, out onto the sidewalk, and they… walk. Yeah, they’re standing pretty close, but Magnus doesn’t do anything to get them any closer.

It’s almost a little…

It’s unfair for him to think it. Alec _knows_ that. Because when he’d taken Magnus’s arm, he’d been so fucking embarrassed, just because of how _nice_ it was. It felt too cute, too silly, too sweet for him. Walking down the street, arm-in-arm with Magnus Bane. His face had absolutely _burned_ all the way back to the loft. He’d been embarrassed.

So it’s completely fucking unfair for him to be disappointed that Magnus isn’t offering his arm again. Alec can’t be that goddamn demanding.

Besides, it’s not like it isn’t nice to just… walk, like this. They’re a little closer to each other than Alec’s used to. A little closer than he’d be if he were walking next to anyone else. Anyone but Magnus.

It’s a little chilly, but still better than Alec expected. Particularly this late at night. Apparently the nights are finally starting to get a little warmer. Alec’s actually glad he forgot to bring a jacket. It would have been too much. After all, he’s already a little warm.

He feels warm, when he’s with Magnus.

It’s later than usual. Magnus ended up having to work late, so their dinner plans kept getting shoved later and later into the evening, until Alec had to give up and eat something at the Institute. They’d still gone to the restaurant as soon as Magnus was free, but they’d stayed at the bar. Just dessert, and drinks.

(Or, in Alec’s case, drink. Well, half-drink. Some of a drink. Honestly, when he’d tried a sip of one of Magnus’s multiple glasses of wine, he’d liked it a hell of a lot better than whatever cocktail he’d picked for himself.)

So the date was a little shorter, and they won’t even get back to Magnus’s loft until well-past when Alec had gotten back to the Institute last time. Part of Alec can’t help but wonder just how late it’ll be when he finally gets home, and another part of him can’t help but worry about how it’ll look for him to come sneaking back in the middle of the night.

But there’s a much bigger part of him that honestly just can’t give a fuck. Because this is too damn nice. All of it. The walk to the restaurant, the dessert, the drink he couldn’t bring himself to finish, the conversation, all the silly stories Magnus had told him (even though Alec’s not entirely sure how much of it is actually true, and how much of it was tweaked a bit just to make it funny. Just to make Alec laugh), and now…

The walk back. To Magnus’s loft.

Alec doesn’t really mind the few moments of silence between them - and then he realizes how fucking _bizarre_ it is for him to think that.

But apparently, Magnus isn’t quite ready to give up their last conversation. He’s not ready to concede.

“It’s not as though I said you’d be _entirely_ helpless,” he says lightly, picking up exactly where they’d left off at the bar.

Alec smiles. He knows they don’t really know each other very well, but he’s still surprised at how often Magnus surprises him. Like this. Alec didn’t anticipate how _stubborn_ Magnus is. Especially about trivial things. Stupid little things. Things no one should have the energy to be stubborn about.

Alec likes that. He thinks he likes it a bit more than he should.

But that doesn’t mean he’s just gonna give in. “That’s _exactly_ what you said. You said that a bunch.”

“You’re exaggerating. All I was trying to say is that you wouldn’t be as good as you think you’d be.”

“And _I’m_ saying that you’re wrong.” Alec tries to sound serious about it, but his smile doesn’t seem like it’s planning on going away, and it’s messing with his tone. “I’m pretty sure I’d be awesome.”

Magnus rolls his eyes - which has been his standard response to everything Alec’s said so far - but he’s also got this crooked little smile. “I think that’s a touch over-confident of you.”

And Alec laughs before he can think better of it. Before he can think at all. Because this has got to be the first time in his entire damn life that anyone has suggested he’s _over_ -confident about anything. Sure, this is all a joke. This is a stupid conversation that he should never have started, and somehow it hasn’t died yet. But still, it’s kinda nice.

“I’ve been training with seraph blades since I could _walk,_ Magnus.”

“Hacking away at demons is _nothing_ like fencing, Alexander,” Magnus retorts calmly, still with that silly little smirk on his face.

“They’re similar! They both have swords. I’m sure _some_ of the… the principles- there have to be some similarities.”

Magnus makes a small, smug noise. “Not as many as you think.”

Alec shakes his head (but he still can’t get rid of this stupid fucking smile). “You’re wrong. I’d be good at fencing.”

Magnus laughs - and Alec tries to ignore the way it makes those damn butterflies start flying around in his stomach again. “I never said you wouldn’t be! I just said that you wouldn’t automatically be good at it because of your training. It really is a completely different skill set. Nothing like the fighting you’re used to.”

Alec presses his lips together as they slip through stopped traffic to cross the street. “So by that logic, you’re saying that even though you know how to fence, you wouldn’t be any good at using a seraph blade if you tried?”

Magnus glances over at him. “Who says I haven’t used a seraph blade before?” He raises an eyebrow, still with that little smirk. It’s a very… a very _pointed_ expression.

And it does something weird to Alec’s gut. Something twisting, and tight, and _significantly_ warmer than the warmth he was already feeling. Because that…

That’s certainly a thought. Alec will- yeah. He’s pretty sure he’ll be thinking about that for a while.

He tries to respond, tries to string a few words together, tries to at least get as far as opening his mouth-

His tongue feels like sandpaper against the roof of his mouth. His throat is dry when he tries to swallow. He doesn’t remember… words. Any words. Not a single damn word.

Luckily, Magnus isn’t having the same problem. He just laughs. Quietly. Easily. It sounds so comfortable. “Of course, if you’re so determined that I’m wrong, there’s a fairly easy way to prove it.”

Alec…

He needs a second. He doesn’t quite follow, right away. His brain has to work a little harder than it should to catch up. And when he finally does-

He smiles. But the rest of his face scrunches down a bit. It feels like a pretty confused smile. “You mean… fencing? Us? Like, uh- to…” He doesn’t know how to finish. How is he supposed to phrase this? Do you fence someone, or fence _with_ them? Against them? He doesn’t know how to construct the correct sentence. So he puts it the only way he can think to. “Together?”

Magnus’s head tips a bit to one side. His smile gets a little bigger.

Fuck.

It’s so fucking cute.

 _Fuck._ Has Magnus always been this cute? Has Alec ever thought that before? He must have, because it’s so true. It’s so true it’s almost overwhelming.

“Of course,” Magnus says - and somehow his light tone is just as cute as his smile. “You might not know this, Alexander, but fencing is one of the _classic_ activities for a date. Practically a requirement.”

That’s a joke. Alec can tell it’s a joke - not just by context, but by the particular lilt of Magnus’s voice, by some subtle quality in his smile. Alec’s heard it before, seen it before. He knows when Magnus is joking. And that’s what he’s doing now. It’s a joke. Alec should laugh.

But he can't. He doesn’t think he could if he tried.

Because the way he _phrased_ it was the joke. It’s not a ‘classic’ date. Fencing isn’t some sort of dating tradition. That’s what Magnus was joking about.

He wasn’t joking about… wanting to do it.

Wanting another date.

Alec’s heart is flopping around in his chest like some sort of beached fish.

It’s not like he really thought Magnus _wouldn’t_ want another date. The first two haven’t exactly been catastrophes. Far from it. The first two have been… nice. The first two have been really fucking nice.

(Well, technically the second one isn’t over yet. Alec knows there’s still plenty of time for him to fuck this whole thing up before he goes back to the Institute. But he’s hopeful. He’s… optimistic - which is kind of a new feeling for him.)

But still, Alec wasn’t sure. Alec didn’t know.

And hearing Magnus mention it, hearing Magnus talk - even hypothetically - about another date, a date they might have in the future…

It suddenly feels like they’re too far apart. They’re walking so close together, they’re walking closer together than Alec ever walks with anyone else. But somehow, it still doesn’t feel like enough. Alec still wants more.

Last time, Alec didn’t even get the chance to get to this point. Magnus had offered his arm basically the _moment_ they were out the door. They’d already been that close, the whole time. Alec didn’t have the chance to realize how… far away it feels. To not have that little bit of contact. And now…

It doesn’t look like Magnus is going to do anything. They’ve already walked a few blocks. Magnus looks like he’s settled. Into this pace. Into this amount of distance.

And… fuck. It’s not like Alec can just _ask_ Magnus. ‘Hey, can you do that arm thing again? Thanks.’ Alec can’t ask Magnus to offer. That’s not how it works. And Alec can’t-

He can’t offer his own arm to Magnus, either. That’s not… something he does. Something he can do. It’d look so stupid. And Magnus probably wouldn’t even be able to tell what he was trying to do. Or, hell, maybe Alec would just end up elbowing Magnus in the ribs. Just his luck.

But Alec still wants something. Fuck, it feels like he _needs_ something. Something closer. Some little bit of touch. It feels like he’s just… stuck. There’s so much happening, he’s feeling so much, and it’s all stuck in his own chest. He’s stuck holding all of this warmth and all of these butterflies and all of this _niceness,_ and like this, when they’re so far apart, he can’t express any of it to Magnus. And that’s not fair. If he could touch him, if he could find any tiny bit of contact, then Magnus would be able to feel it. Alec would be able to let Magnus know. All of it. The warmth and the butterflies and how nice it all is and how _happy_ it all makes him.

He can’t say any of it. But if he could touch him, he knows Magnus would understand.

Alec’s nails dig into his palm.

How does he- how is he supposed to…

It’s may be warm for nighttime, but it’s still pretty chilly. But _of course_ the cold breeze isn’t enough to keep Alec’s hands from feeling hot. Sweaty. Gross.

He forces himself to unclench his fist - like that might help air it out. He wiggles his fingers around a bit. It’s a… build-up. Preparation. It’s gathering his energy. Gathering his nerve.

By the Angel, how does anyone _do_ shit like this? Casually, without warning, without have to think about it? Alec knows there’s no way in hell that Magnus ever needs to work up his courage, to constantly second- and third- and fourth-guess himself like this. Magnus probably doesn’t even have to think about it in the first place. This stuff is easy for him.

Fuck, this stuff is probably easy for literally everyone but Alec. So fucking easy. And he can’t figure out how the fuck he’s supposed to do it.

But Alec needs to do this.

Alec _wants_ to do this.

Alec’s heart is pounding so goddamn quickly it’s like it’s melded into one continuous, terrifying beat. His palms are sweating more than before. He wants to look down, but he can’t make himself look anywhere but straight ahead. He desperately tries to breathe.

Alec takes Magnus’s hand.

And…

Fuck.

It’s clunky. It’s awkward. Alec doesn’t think his hand is any bigger than Magnus’s, but for some reason, like this… _fuck._ It feels like he’s got some giant sasquatch hand, and he’s trying to squeeze the life out of Magnus’s poor fingers. Fuck.

Fucking fuck.

_Dammit._

Why does it feel like this? His palm is sweaty and his fingers are making an awkward, horrible _cage_ around Magnus’s hand - which is all scrunched up in a weird way that Alec knows cannot be remotely comfortable.

It’s awkward and weird and clunky and uncomfortable and Alec doesn’t know what the fuck he was thinking. Why did he think this would be a good idea? This is awful. This is actually, genuinely _awful._ This is infinitely worse than when they’d just been walking too far apart. Alec thinks any amount of distance between them has to be better than whatever the fuck _this_ is. Fuck. He should let go.

Magnus’s hand starts to move. He makes a little noise - and Alec can’t tell what the fuck it’s supposed to mean. Magnus spreads his fingers, trying to break Alec’s grip.

 _Fuck._ Of course. Only Alec could manage to fuck up something as fundamentally easy as holding hands. Only he could fuck that up this badly. Shit. How did he let himself do this? How did-

Magnus’s fingers uncurl against Alec’s palm. And-

And he…

Oh.

Magnus slips his fingers between Alec’s. His fingers curl up a bit, and brush against Alec’s knuckles. Their fingers tangle together and their hands-

Their hands fit together.

Alec reminds himself to breathe.

He reminds himself again.

It takes a few tries. And it takes a few tries to get his hand to cooperate, so he can…

He curls his fingers, just like Magnus did. He tightens his hand a bit. He… holds. He holds Magnus’s hand.

Magnus’s rings are pressed between Alec’s fingers. They’re cool at first, but Alec’s overheated hand warms them up pretty damn quickly. They feel surprisingly… good. Smooth, and solid. It’s a contrast, a counterpoint to the rest of Magnus’s hand. It feels nice.

This feels nice. This feels so goddamn nice.

Magnus makes that same little noise again. And without his panic tainting the sound, this time Alec can tell that it’s a happy little hum. Happy.

Alec tries to stop himself, tries to think better… but he can’t help it. He takes a breath, and looks over at Magnus.

Magnus is looking down, either at his feet, or the sidewalk ahead of them.

And he’s smiling.

Alec almost loses his balance.

But he doesn’t. He manages to stay on his feet. Keep walking. Keep walking with Magnus.

Keep walking with Magnus, holding hands.

It probably shouldn’t feel this good, should it? Alec is painfully aware that this is basically the lowest end of the Intimacy Intensity scale. He’s already kissed Magnus. He’s already kissed Magnus multiple times. He’s kissed Magnus a lot. He’s - fuck - he’s laid on top of Magnus while he was kissing him so hard he couldn’t breathe. He’s done so much, they’ve done so much _more_ than this. Hell, Alec’s technically already held Magnus’s hand before (though in very different contexts than this). This should feel like less, not more. This shouldn’t feel so _new._

This shouldn’t feel so good. So close. It’s just their hands. It shouldn’t…

Alec’s feet aren’t working right. Every single time his foot hits the sidewalk, it’s like it lands a little more softly than before. His body is getting too… light. He keeps walking, and he keeps holding Magnus’s hand, keeps feeling the way his fingers are twined with Magnus’s, and he’s getting lightheaded, he’s getting light, lighter and lighter and he’s pretty sure that if this keeps up, any second now he’s gonna float right out of his damn shoes.

The breeze picks up a bit. It makes Alec shiver.

Huh. He’d forgotten that it’s chilly out.         

They turn a corner. Walk another block. Alec’s lost track of where they are. But he doesn’t particularly care.

Magnus makes a sound, like he’s just thought of something. “You know, there is a way we could even things out. Make it a bit more fair.”

Alec doesn’t have a goddamn clue what that’s supposed to mean. He can’t remember the last thing Magnus said. He can’t remember the last thing he said. He can’t remember anything either of them have said all night. “What?” He glances over again.

Magnus is still smiling, but it’s a little… twistier now. It looks like he’s actively putting in effort to keep it from becoming a smirk. “Since you’re going to have to deal with me being _infinitely_ better at fencing than you, it’d only be fair to also do something that plays to _your_ strengths.”

He’s still smiling, and Alec’s still watching him smile, and he’s still holding Alec’s hand, and…

And Alec’s brain isn’t in much of a hurry to keep up with the conversation. His strengths? What the fuck are those? Stuttering? Falling down the stairs? Finding ways to fuck up things that are so simple they should be unfuckable? Alec’s not sure why anyone would want to _plan_ any of that into a date. There’s nothing he can think of that’d be considered-

Oh.

Alec’s strengths.

So, he means…

Alec sputters out a stupid little laugh. It’s squeakier than he’d hoped. “You’re serious?”

Magnus’s smile hasn’t gotten any bigger, but there’s something about the look in his eye that’s just as obvious. “Archery’s not such a far stretch from fencing. It fits the same general theme, anyway. We could make a day of it.” He looks over at Alec. “Besides, that bow you're holding onto is still mine, you know. It’s about time I got some use out of it.”

Alec can feel every single drop of blood that heats up his face. It takes less than a second to feel like he’s blushing hard enough to combust. He’s probably as red as Magnus’s lipstick.

So he tries to ignore it. He tries not to think about that too hard.

He tries not to think about it at all. Tries his damndest to not think about Magnus using a bow at all, much less using Alec’s bow, using _his bow-_

The toe of Alec’s boot catches in a crack in the sidewalk. Mercifully, he just _barely_ stumbles before catching his balance. It’s not that bad. Just a little stumble. Probably not even noticeable.

Magnus laughs.

Shit.

Well, if Magnus is gonna laugh at him, at least it’s… at least it’s a really nice sound to hear.

“I think it’d make a charming date, don’t you?” Magnus asks, still light, but still serious, too. “I teach you how to fence, you teach me to use a bow. There’s a lovely symmetry to it.”

“Teach you?” Alec repeats. Because, that can’t… that _can’t_ be true. There’s no-

Alec’s not sure how he knows, but somehow he _knows_ that there’s no fucking way Magnus Bane doesn’t know how to shoot an arrow. It doesn’t make any kind of sense. If he has experience with _seraph blades_ (which… fuck, which is still not a thought Alec can successfully think right now), he has to know how to use a fucking bow. That’s just… logic. Reason.

So why is he smiling like this?

Because he is. He’s smiling, like he has a secret. Or, no. Like he and Alec have a secret. Like they’re in on it together. “Honestly, Alexander, you’ve been trained as an archer your entire life. I’m sure you could at least give me a few pointers.”

And that’s-

For some reason, that’s the silliest thing Alec has ever fucking heard. It’s bullshit. It’s complete bullshit. Alec can _see_ that it’s bullshit. That’s plain as day, right in Magnus’s smile. Alec can tell that Magnus is lying. Well, maybe ‘lying’ is a little harsh for something like this. Joking? Teasing? Whatever he’s doing, it’s clear that he doesn’t need Alec to teach him how to do shit. But…

But he’s offering anyway. With that silly little smile of his.

Alec doesn’t know why. He can’t imagine Magnus would ever pretend he doesn't know how to do something he can do. Maybe he’s just trying to make Alec feel better, make Alec feel like he has this _one_ thing he’s actually good at. One thing he knows better than Magnus does. Maybe he’s trying to give Alec the chance to…

Huh.

Maybe he’s giving Alec the chance to show off a bit. Do something he’s good at. Do something where he knows what he’s doing. Instead of following Magnus’s lead to a restaurant he doesn’t know, taking Magnus’s advice on what drink would go best with his food, listening to Magnus talk all night, unsure of what he could possibly contribute to a one-sided conversation that interesting. Knowing things Alec doesn’t know. Teaching Alec how to fence.

This wouldn’t be anything like that. Even if Magnus pretty obviously already knows what he’d be doing… so would Alec. It’d be… even.

And that’s certainly a nice thought.

Then again, something about Magnus’s dumb smile…

“Yeah,” Alec says, trying to hold down a laugh, “I coul- I could, um.”

Fuck. How do people do this? How do they play along with things like this? How do they tease?

Alec takes a second to re-gather his wits (for what must be the dozenth time tonight). “I could show you some stuff. Give you some tips.”

And it’s ridiculous, by the Angel it’s ridiculous. Because Magnus still has that stupid smile and now Alec’s got a stupid smile of his own, and they’re both trying to hide these stupid smiles and they _both_ know damn well that they’re lying. Or kidding, or whatever it is. Magnus doesn’t need Alec’s help with this.

But he’s going to accept it anyway.

The two of them, at a range somewhere (since fuck knows Magnus can’t be thinking they’ll have a date at the _Institute_ , even if it’s the best-equipped for this). Magnus, holding Alec’s bow. Pretending to know less than he does. Alec, getting to help him. Maybe some little nudges, little touches to adjust his posture. Hovering a little too close.

Both of them knowing how ridiculous it is.

It’s…

Alec has to admit, it sounds like a _damn_ nice date.

He’s laughing. He doesn’t really know when he started, but he’s definitely laughing.

Walking with Magnus, walking back to Magnus’s loft, holding Magnus’s hand, laughing.

Individually, the pieces are all so simple. They shouldn’t fit together into something this… something like this. This shouldn’t be possible.

Magnus is laughing a bit, too. He’s quieter than Alec. He’s looking down at his feet again.

And after a moment, he rubs his thumb against Alec’s. Back and forth. Again, back and forth. From the the base, up to the knuckle, and back again. Over and over. So slowly.

So softly.

Alec’s breath gets stuck in his throat. Like a lump, but… nice. A lump of niceness, lodged in his windpipe.

He doesn’t know where they are. He should probably know. It wasn’t that long of a walk to the restaurant. He’s pretty sure he should be recognizing the buildings a bit more by now. He should know where they are.

But he doesn’t. They’ve wandered away from the traffic, from the clutter of people going about their nights. They’re more secluded now. It’s almost like-

Magnus keeps rubbing his thumb across Alec’s skin.

And Alec’s pretty sure he’s not taking them back to the loft. Not on the most straightforward route, anyway. Alec’s pretty sure Magnus is taking them a different way. A longer way.

Magnus keeps rubbing Alec’s thumb.

And Alec smiles.

Magnus could be planning on taking them miles out of their way. He could be planning on walking them right out of New York, for all Alec knows.

But Alec doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind at all.

 

 

Alec puts his hand on Magnus’s chest.

The tip of his middle finger, first. Then the side of his thumb. Then the heel of his hand. And he slowly, _slowly,_ spreads his fingers. Splays his hand out. On Magnus’s bare chest.

He hears Magnus breathe in, but he can’t look. He’s not sure if it’s that he can’t make himself look Magnus in the eye right now, or if it’s that he can’t make himself look away from his own hand. If he can’t stop watching himself. Seeing himself touching Magnus's chest. Touching Magnus.

He’s warmer than he should be, isn’t he? Alec’s so overheated himself that it’s hard to really tell, but it feels like Magnus shouldn’t be this warm. Not yet, anyway.

Alec lets his hand trail down. Not very far, but enough to feel his fingers brush over Magnus’s skin.

By the Angel, Magnus’s skin is beautiful. His collarbones are beautiful. His Adam’s apple is more beautiful than it has any right to be. His throat his beautiful. The line of his jaw is beautiful, especially with the way his head is tipped back-

And that’s as high as Alec can bring himself to look. There’s already too damn much for him to focus on right now. It’s only been a handful of _seconds_ since Alec carefully undid each of the silver buttons on Magnus’s shirt. Since he slid the fabric off of Magnus’s shoulders. Since he helped Magnus pull his hands free of it. It’s still lying in a limp puddle of fabric behind him. It’s only been a handful of seconds since Alec took off Magnus’s shirt, which means that Magnus’s bare chest still requires Alec’s immediate attention.

 _All_ of his attention.

His hand trails down further. And further. Until the angle makes the bend of his wrist uncomfortable. Technically speaking, they’re a little too close together for Alec to be touching him like this. There’s no room for his hand between them.

But there’s no fucking way Alec’s going to be the one to move back, to add distance. Even if it would make it possible for him to brush his hand all the way down Magnus’s stomach, to feel his muscles, feel his abs, actually _feel_ them, not just stare at them with his mouth watering-

No, even if it would give him more room, Alec doesn’t think he could move away if his life depended on it.

Because Magnus Bane is right here, sitting on Alec’s bed - _Alec’s bed_ \- half-naked, with his skin already starting to heat up with blood and magic…

And Alec is straddling his lap. And touching him.

And none of that makes sense. Not one damn part of it should even be possible, much less true.

But it all is. It’s all true. It’s all happening. Alec doesn’t know why, or how, but _somehow,_ he’s allowed to have all of this. And…

And, shit.

Alec really needs to pick up the pace here. He keeps forgetting that this isn’t like the other times they’ve done this. This isn’t how they usually do this.

(Though Alec can’t really bear to use that word for something like this. Because _nothing_ about this is ‘usual’. In a context like this, that word is an insult. It’s blasphemy. Nothing about this could ever be usual, no matter how many times they get to do it. This is the least usual thing Alec has ever been allowed to have.)

This isn’t like what they’ve done at the end of any of their dates. None of those four nights have been like this.

Hell, this isn’t even a date. Or a night.

This is Alec’s goddamn lunch break.

The thought is almost enough to make him laugh. He probably would laugh, if he weren’t so… preoccupied. Distracted.

He can’t get his hand any lower like this, so he starts bringing it back up. Back up Magnus’s chest. His touch is light, but it’s still his whole hand, not just his fingers. His hand, on Magnus’s chest. Moving up, toward his neck-

Wait.

He gets an idea. He moves his hand down again, and…

It feels so good, so _impossibly_ good, when Magnus does it to him. He loves when Magnus does it to him. So, maybe…

Alec brushes his fingers across Magnus’s nipple. Just an idea, just to see-

Magnus lets out a tiny, _tiny_ sound. A quiet little whimper.

And the sound is so goddamn fucking gorgeous that Alec whimpers right back.

This isn’t enough. They don’t have time right now, they’re on a schedule, they have a time limit, they don’t have the luxury of leisure. There’s still so much more they’re going to do. They’ve already talked about it, they’ve _planned_ it.

Alec needs to get a fucking move on.

He keeps his fingertips against Magnus’s nipple, keeps gently tracing circles around it (just like Magnus has done to him). And he ducks his head, and kisses Magnus’s neck - after all, with the way he’s been practically _offering_ it to Alec, Alec’s pretty sure it’s something he’s interested in.

If the loud _moan_ Magnus makes is any indication, Alec was very right about that assumption.

Fuck. This is too much. It’s too much, and it isn’t enough, and there’s still more, there’s still so much _more-_

Footsteps.

_Shit._

Alec pulls away from Magnus. Jerks back. His head snaps toward the door. And he puts his hands behind him on the bed. Trying to get some room, some distance.

And how fucking stupid is that? Alec’s already in bed, straddling his half-naked boyfriend. If they’re gonna get caught like this, would it honestly be that much worse if his mouth was still on Magnus’s neck? Their intentions are already pretty fucking clear.

The footsteps get closer.

Alec’s fairly sure that his heart has stopped beating.

Everything is still for a moment. Still, and quiet, and suspended…

The footsteps trail away. _Away._ Away from the door, out of earshot, out of their concern.

It’s like Alec can actually feel his heart restart. He lets out his breath, and does his best to not make it sound too much like the sigh of relief it is. He looks back at Magnus-

Magnus is looking at him. With this… _look._ A very specific look.

Alec tries to shrug, but his shoulders aren’t really cooperating. “Sorry. Reflex.”

It’s a reflex that’s already kicked in half a dozen times since Magnus got here - which can’t be more than ten minutes ago. He’s still a little… jumpy, even though his bedroom is more secure than a fortress right now. Even though he used every rune he knows that has any capability of securing the door, making the room sound-proof, keeping them hidden. Even though Magnus has also contributed a handful of spells to ensure their privacy (apparently, anyone who even tries to walk down this hall will suddenly ‘remember’ something very important they’re supposed to be doing on the other end of the Institute).

No one is going to hear them. No one is going to find them. No one is going to come looking for Alec if he loses track of their small allotment of time. Alec knows that.

Now if only he could convince his nerves to believe it.

Magnus has the same look on his face, the one he’s had every time Alec has interrupted them to give the door a moment of fearful attention. And every time, Magnus has asked if Alec wants to stop. If he’d rather not do this here, if he’d rather not do this now.

And quite frankly, Alec doesn’t want to hear it again. So he re-situates himself in Magnus’s lap, and puts his hands on Magnus’s bare shoulders.

Magnus tilts his head, and Alec prepares himself to hear the same string of questions, the same offer to stop.

“This bed is awful, Alexander.”

Alec smiles. Magnus has been saying that since the moment he saw it. Before he even sat on it. “I know.”

Magnus smiles back at him. “You need to get a better one.”

Alec laughs. “I know.”

He keeps one hand on Magnus’s shoulder, and he lifts the other one to touch Magnus’s face. Alec runs his finger along Magnus’s jaw. He brushes his thumb across Magnus’s cheekbone. He cups Magnus’s face against his palm.

He’s wearing less makeup than usual. Hell, for all Alec knows, he’s not wearing any of his usual makeup at all. The only thing Alec can see is a tiny smudge of a dark color under his eyes. And something about it looks… unintentional. It’s not like the eyeliner he usually wears. It looks more like this is whatever’s left over from last night’s makeup, and he hasn’t thoroughly washed his face yet. It may be the middle of Alec’s day, but he’s fully aware that this is Magnus’s morning. He was still in bed when Alec called him. He’d gotten dressed while they talked (Alec could hear shifting hangers, rustling fabric, Chairman Meow sitting on the phone when Magnus set it on the dresser). His first job isn’t for another hour or so. He hasn’t had to get ready yet.

It’s not how Alec’s used to seeing him. Yeah, he’s seen him with less makeup than usual, but that was… the other end of the ‘process’. That was Magnus’s face while he was still putting makeup on. This is Magnus’s face before he’s taken his makeup all the way off. It’s different, somehow. A little messier (Alec has seen Magnus with little smudges under his eyes, but it’s never been mismatched and uneven and faded like this). It’s not much - just two tiny bits of makeup that probably aren’t where they’re supposed to be. Maybe Magnus wasn’t wearing much last night. Maybe he _did_ wash his face before coming here, and he just missed these spots. But however small it is, however minor the difference…

It’s new. Something Alec hasn’t seen before.

Alec feels a little pang of awareness that this is probably something very few people have ever seen before. Magnus, with that little bit of last night’s makeup left on his face. With his hair a little more ‘down’ than usual. With those little chips and scratches in his nail polish. With no jewelry except that cuff on his ear, and a ring on his right hand.

With that little smile. The one Alec’s almost, _almost_ starting to… get used to seeing.

Magnus is still smiling when Alec kisses him. Alec can feel it, he can _feel_ that Magnus is smiling, he can feel it against his lips.

Alec can’t get his hands to stop moving. It doesn’t feel like he’s actively making the decision to move them, but for whatever reason, he just _can’t_ get himself to stop. His right hand keeps tracing along Magnus’s cheek, his jaw, back behind his ear, his jaw again. His left hand follows the shape of Magnus’s shoulder, rubs the nape of his neck, feels the short hair at the back of his head. Alec keeps kissing Magnus, and his right hand trails up so he can tangle his fingers in Magnus’s hair, and his left hand trails forward, and down, so he can touch Magnus’s chin. Alec pulls back, separates their mouths, so he can gently, _carefully_ touch the tip of his finger to Magnus’s lower lip. He feels that little bit of wetness, and he’s not sure if it’s Magnus's spit, or his own. And he doesn’t care. He just keeps touching Magnus’s lip. And he kisses him again. Alec kisses Magnus, and touches Magnus’s lips, and kisses Magnus again, and keeps touching him, he’s not thinking, he’s not breathing, but he keeps touching Magnus as much as he can.

Magnus has one arm behind him. He’s been propping himself up, keeping both of them steady. But It looks like he’s changing his mind about that. Because while Alec keeps kissing him, keeps touching him, keeps trying to force himself to breathe, Magnus bends his arm. He slowly lies back, slowly stretches out on the bed, slowly rests his head on Alec’s single, deflated pillow.

And Alec absolutely _refuses_ to stop kissing Magnus for any reason whatsoever, so he follows him. Still trying to gasp in little breaths between Magnus’s lips. Still touching him, wherever he can, however much he can.

He doesn’t fully realize the change in position until it’s already done. He just goes with it, just follows Magnus, trusts Magnus’s movements, and suddenly-

Twenty minutes ago, Alec was alone at his desk, filing reports, trying to compartmentalize the busywork he was doing and the busywork he still had to do and doing whatever he could to keep his focus on the screen and not his own thoughts.

And now, he’s in bed with Magnus. Magnus Bane is in his bed. Shirtless, breathless. And Alec is lying over him, straddling his hips, touching him, kissing him…

And this _still_ isn’t it. There’s still going to be more.

It’s like whiplash. Every step to get to this point seemed natural enough. There was a progression. Yeah, things have been moving significantly _faster_ than Alec’s used to - a necessity of the circumstances - but they still went through all the same steps.

But Alec feels completely disoriented. Taking stock of where he is, where _they_ are, is… jarring.  This isn’t exactly what he’d expected his afternoon to be like. It’s not what he’d planned.

He’d been excited enough about his lunch break when he’d thought he was just getting a sandwich.

It’s surreal, it’s completely fucking surreal. To know that his day can be thrown this far off-course, just because of a phone call.

Magnus shifts a little underneath him. Alec lifts himself up a bit, trying to give him more room, so he can get comfortable-

Alec smiles.

He’s not going to get comfortable. He just keeps wriggling, adjusting his shoulders, lifting his head and putting it back down in a different spot on the pillow.

Alec bites his lip, and tries not to laugh.

Eventually, Magnus must give up. Because he aims a furrowed glare down at the bed, and then a look of bitter resignation up at Alec.

Alec’s smile breaks open into a grin. “It’s not _that_ bad.”

“It is horrific, Alexander.” Magnus wriggles a bit more. “Jesus, when’s the last time you changed your mattress?”

“I dunno.”

“You don’t _know?_ ” Magnus’s eyes go wide, but more with judgement than disbelief.

Alec just laughs again. He’s not sure what Magnus saw in him that ever made him think ‘this is a guy who changes his mattress as often as he’s supposed to’, but that’s not Alec’s fault. “This is the only mattress they gave me, okay?”

Magnus inhales deeply, and exhales with a little huff. “No wonder everyone here is always so ornery. None of you have _ever_ gotten a good night’s sleep.”

Alec…

He stops laughing. He pushes himself up, kneeling over Magnus, instead of laying. There’s just… just this little thing, in the back of his mind…

“Do y-” he swallows. “Do you… not want to do this?”

It had been Magnus’s idea in the first place, but…

His leftover makeup, like he wasn’t finished getting ready for the day. Like he was interrupted. The amount of times he’s asked if Alec wants to stop. The amount of times he’s said that they don’t have to do this today. And now, the stupid mattress. Yeah, it’s a shitty mattress (especially compared to Magnus’s), but it could almost be… an excuse. Saying the bed is so bad that he wants to go home.

Maybe it’s not the mattress. Maybe it just that… that he’s not interested in this.

Of course. Of course he’s not. Alec doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing - that’s the whole point of this. Something new. Alec… doing something new. Hell, Alec actually _doing_ anything. He’s never… taken charge before. He’s never done anything _for_ Magnus. Even this, even just Alec sitting in Magnus’s lap like this, Alec touching him, Alec kissing him - that’s all new. Alec doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he’s trying.

And maybe Magnus has decided that he’s not good enough. That it’s not worth bothering. Maybe he’d rather get out now, instead of even giving Alec the chance to try-

Magnus’s eyebrows furrow, just for a quick moment. Like he’s confused. Or surprised? Like he wasn’t expecting that question.

And then he smiles again. He reaches up, and presses his hand to Alec’s chest. His skin is still a little warmer than it should be. “I want to do this,” he says. Simple. Plain. His smile quirks up a bit in one corner of his mouth. “Very much.”

Alec swallows. His mouth is dry. His heart is speeding up - which he didn’t really think was possible, since it feels like it’s already been racing for hours. His ribs feel like they’re tightening around his lungs.

And Magnus is still smiling.

So Alec tries to smile back at him.

He doesn’t think it’s very successful, but-

Magnus curls his fingers against Alec’s chest. They hook into the neckline of his t-shirt. And he uses that grip to pull Alec down, to pull him in, to get him close again.

Alec’s lips are parted in a gasp, but Magnus kisses him anyway. His limbs are weak. He can’t hold himself up anymore. He collapses - trying to at least make it as gentle as possible - which means that he…

He’s just…

He’s on top of Magnus. There’s a patch of bare skin on Alec’s stomach where his shirt’s rucked up, and now, it’s pressed against Magnus’s stomach. Skin touching skin. They’ve both been shirtless together before, but this is… somehow this tiny patch of bare skin still feels different. Alec presses himself down and-

Oh, right.

He knows why it feels different. He knows _exactly_ why it feels different.

He presses down, and Magnus _grinds_ up against him, and their hips rub together. And Alec can feel Magnus’s dick. He's hard, just like Alec.

And this time, for the first time, unlike the few other times they’ve done this… they’re going to do something about it.

 _Alec_ is going to do something about it.

He still can’t believe any of this. He’s lying on top of Magnus and grinding their hips together and kissing him and touching him and Magnus keeps making quiet sounds against Alec’s mouth and it’s eleven-thirty on a Tuesday morning and what the _fuck_ is going on with Alec’s life right now? He can’t believe they’ve gotten to this point.

Hell, he still can’t believe he even called Magnus in the first place.

It was just… eating at him. Ever since Sunday night, it’s been lodged in the back of his mind. Well, the back of his mind, and his chest, and his stomach. Stress and guilt and nerves and anxiety that melded into that perfect blend of headaches and heartburn and feeling like he’d throw up if he thought about it for too long. He just felt so guilty, but he wasn’t sure _why,_ and he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be feeling.

So he’d called Magnus.

And he’d told him.

By the Angel, Alec had actually _told_ Magnus, all of it. Over the phone, even (and Alec can sometimes fuck up saying his own _name_ on the phone). He’d told Magnus about Sunday night. How he couldn’t sleep. How that goddamn stamina rune had kept him awake. How he’d been thinking about their last date. How the combination of those memories and that rune had left him with an erection that wouldn’t fucking cooperate. How he’d had to deal with it himself. And how he’d… he’d thought about Magnus, while he was doing it.

He told Magnus. He told Magnus everything.

He still can’t fucking believe it. And he still doesn’t fucking know why. Why he’d done it. Said any of it. It was just that ball of goddamn guilt that wouldn’t leave him alone. Or, maybe it wasn’t even guilt - because he still isn’t sure there was anything to be guilty about. But it was something just as shitty. Anxiety and confusion and he’d needed to get rid of it somehow. So he told Magnus, in case that would help.

And Magnus’s response had been… better than what Alec had expected.

 _Significantly_ better.

So Alec had told him the rest, he’d told him what it was like, he’d told him how good it was, and how it had made him want that again, how it had made him want to touch Magnus like that, how he wanted to touch Magnus and make him come and make him feel as good as Alec had felt.

Well, he hadn’t actually said any of that. Not in those words. But he’d gotten the idea across, albeit buried under ten different layers of euphemisms and “Y-you know… _that_ ”s and incomprehensible stammering.

It had been enough for Magnus to know what he meant.

They can’t see each other for a while. Magnus’s schedule for this week and the next is _stupidly_ full. And the few times he has an hour or two to himself, it’s while Alec is scheduled to be on patrol. They both knew it was unbelievably lucky that they’d manage to scrape together so many dates in such a short time, so it shouldn’t be surprising that their unnatural luck has finally run out. But now they’re not going to be able to have another date for at least another week. Their schedules just don’t line up.

Except right now. Before Magnus’s first job. During Alec’s lunch break.

When he’d suggested it on the phone, Magnus had sounded like he was already pretty sure Alec would say no. It’s a fucking ridiculous idea, after all. Magnus portalling himself to the Institute, sneaking himself in, locking themselves in Alec’s room for half an hour… all for a handjob.

Fuck, it’s the most ridiculous thing Alec’s ever agreed to.

It was just… the sound of Magnus’s voice. The way he’d responded. The fact that Alec had to hide in his bathroom because a _phone call_ was making him hard. The fact that this is their one chance, their last chance before they deal with what is undoubtedly their first of many weeks spent apart. The fact that it was so sudden, a decision he’d had to make in less than a second, so he didn’t have any time to think better of it.

Magnus wriggles again, but it’s more pointed this time. For a moment, it seems like he’s trying to wriggle himself _away_ from Alec, but then-

He arches his back, worms a hand underneath himself, and tugs his discarded shirt out from under him. He sputters out a little laugh, and tosses it off the bed.

Which is actually pretty… surprising. Alec’s never seen Magnus toss around something as important as his _clothes_ so casually before. Alec sort of figured he’d poof the shirt all the way back to his closet. The fabric seems too nice to be thrown carelessly onto Alec’s bedroom floor.

But that just… that just gives Alec another pang of awareness that Magnus is taking off his clothes in Alec’s room. Taking off his clothes in Alec’s bed, and dropping them on Alec’s floor.

Fuck.

Fucking _fuck._

It’s starting to feel weird like this. The position isn’t what Alec wants it to be. He’s still straddling Magnus’s hips, but now he’s bent over him, and something about it feels too… up. Too active. It feels like he’s getting ready to launch himself off the bed, head-first into the wall. And that image itself is fucking _stupid_ enough that Alec has to move. He can’t stay like this.

Besides, on top of Magnus like this, he’d never be able to get his hand… to move it right, to get it down to Magnus’s-

Nope. He can’t let himself think about it. The only reason he’s made it this far is that he’s _not_ letting himself think about it. That’s when it’ll all fall apart.

So he does a bit of… adjusting. It’s awkward, trying to get his limbs to move while his brain is very much preoccupied with the way that Magnus is kissing him, with the fact that Magnus’s tongue is in his mouth, and his hands are on Alec’s waist. Alec can barely get his legs to cooperate, stretching himself out, lying next to Magnus instead of on top of him, tugging at Magnus’s hip so he gets the idea and scoots over onto his side.

It feels more familiar, like this. Lying down, on their sides, face to face. It’s almost… a little comforting. Now that Alec’s not on top. He feels less responsible like this, like it’s not his job to _lead_ things anymore. It feels more even, like Magnus can easily take control and guide them however he wants to. It feels safe. Alec feels safe. He feels comfortable.

He feels… eager.

His hand is on Magnus’s hip, fingers hesitantly running back and forth across the fabric of Magnus’s jeans, fiddling with his belt loop.

And he starts to move his hand, inward.

He starts to move his hand.

He tries to move his hand.

He wants to move his hand, dammit.

He can’t make himself move. Magnus has stopped kissing him, and now Alec’s just… frozen. His open mouth is less than an inch from Magnus’s. Their legs are tangled together. His hand is on Magnus’s hip, so close, but not there…

And he can’t move. He wants to, he wants to so goddamn fucking badly, but he… he doesn’t know if he’s supposed to. It’s not that he can’t, it’s that he doesn’t know if he can. If he should.

Magnus knows. Alec will never know how, but Magnus knows. Because he shifts his hips, just a tiny bit. Like he’s nudging Alec’s hand.

And he breathes out against Alec’s lips, and whispers, “Please.”

It’s actually kind of startling, how quickly Alec goes from not being able to move, to feeling like he’ll die if he doesn’t.

They’re basically breathing right into each other’s mouths - though, come to think of it, Alec’s not sure he’s breathing at all. They’re both lying there, in Alec’s bed, not moving, except for…

Alec does his best to take a deep breath, and he puts his hand between Magnus’s legs.

And that…

That’s-

By the _Angel._

That’s Magnus’s dick. That’s it, that’s the shape of it, against Alec’s hand. Even through his jeans, Alec can still _feel_ it, feel the bulge of Magnus’s erection cupped in his palm.

He’s not quite sure what he can… _do,_ like this. He presses down a bit, rubs the heel of his hand down, following-

Magnus groans. Deep, stuck in his throat.

And that first bridge is crossed, that first seal is broken. Alec’s touched Magnus’s crotch, he’s put his hand somewhere they’ve never put their hands with each other, he’s acknowledged Magnus’s cock in a way that’s more _sharp_ than just grinding against each other. He’s… started. He’s started this.

He’s started this, and he’s suddenly _desperate_ to get to finish it.

“Can I-” his throat is too dry. He swallows. And he brushes his fingers against Magnus’s belt. “C-ah. Can I… take this off?”

Magnus nods. It’s such a slight movement, but it’s still enough to make their noses bump together.

Alec pushes his hips back a bit, tries to give himself more room. Enough room to get both of his hands on the buckle of Magnus’s belt (since he doesn’t trust himself to do something as slick and practiced as taking off someone else’s belt one-handed). His hands fumble as he tries to…

As he tries to find the buckle.

He tries to find it.

Where the fuck…

Since the moment he got here, Alec’s been doggedly avoiding glancing even in the vaguest direction of Magnus’s crotch. He knew he wouldn’t be able to handle it, knowing what’s about to happen. But now, he finally has to look down. Because-

Because his belt doesn’t have a buckle.

What kind of fancy-ass rich person belt doesn’t even have a goddamn _buckle?_

Magnus smiles, and makes a sound that’s probably supposed to be a laugh. He gently takes Alec’s hand, and guides it around his hip, back to-

What?

Alec props himself up on his elbow. Just far enough to look over Magnus’s side, and see the buckle. On the _back_ of his pants.

“Magnus.”

“Hm?”

“Your belt is backward.”

Magnus laughs again. “Yes, I am aware.”

_What?_

Alec frowns. “Did you mean to do that?” He knew Magnus was talking to Alec while he was getting dressed, but it’s not like that should be distracting enough to fuck up something as simple as putting on a belt.

“It looks better like this.”

Alec finds a way to frown even harder. “It does?”

“I don’t like how the buckle looks.”

“So get a different belt.”

“I like the _belt,_ ” Magnus says, and his voice is getting more and more _pointed_ with every word. “Besides, the buckle isn’t supposed to be the focal point. It looks cleaner like this.”

Alec scrunches up his nose, but he’s also got a smile that feels pretty damn stupid. “With a giant belt buckle right on your ass?”

Magnus rolls his eyes quite spectacularly. “Well, if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll go home and change.” And he starts to sit up-

“No! No, no, _wait-_ ” Alec sputters. He chokes on some pathetic laughter that sounds embarrassingly close to _giggling_ as he gets an arm wrapped around Magnus’s waist, trying to anchor him back down to the bed.

But Magnus won’t let himself be pulled down. He sits up as tall as possible - and Alec’s amazed by how dignified he can look in a situation like this, particularly with Alec hanging off of him like an idiot. “People who insult my clothes don’t get to take them off, Alexander.” He says it seriously, but there’s a tiny, _tiny_ hint of a smirk on his face.

So Alec lets himself keep smiling. “I’m sorry.” He laughs again. “I’m _very_ sorry.” He pulls his arm back a bit, so his hand is resting on Magnus’s stomach. He rubs his lips together, trying to get his voice under control. “Your belt looks very nice.”

He only laughs a little bit as he says it.

Magnus just rolls his eyes again, but this time, he’s smiling. “Damn right it does.”

Alec’s still laughing a bit, and Magnus is still smiling a _lot,_ and he cozies up to Alec in a way that makes Alec think he’s going to let him pull them back down onto the pillow…

Yes.

_Yes._

Somehow, it feels like they haven’t kissed in hours. Days, even. Kissing Magnus now feels as new as it had the first time. But by now, Alec has at least _some_ clue of what he’s doing. There are a few things that he knows Magnus likes.

Alec carefully pulls Magnus’s lower lip between his teeth. His hand is still on Magnus’s back, on the buckle of his belt (Alec forces himself not to laugh at the thought). And he lets Magnus’s lip slide across his teeth as he starts to undo the buckle. Except-

Shit.

Except it’s really fucking hard to undo a buckle that he can’t see, especially since he can’t exactly get his other hand back there unless he wants to worm it all the way underneath Magnus.

He breaks the kiss - though that’s not at _all_ what he wants to do. He cranes his neck, trying to see what he’s doing. He fumbles with the buckle. He keeps fumbling. Fucking _fuck,_ how’s he supposed to do this?

“Dammit.” Alec tries to swallow a laugh, but it gets stuck in his throat, and that just makes him laugh harder. “Dammit!” Somehow he’s managed to get his fingers inside the back of Magnus’s jeans, but his goddamn belt is as secure as ever.

And for some reason, that’s hilarious.

Alec smushes his face against Magnus’s neck, still laughing, hand still fumbling uselessly at Magnus’s stupid backward belt buckle.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Magnus mutters. He’s not laughing quite as much as Alec, but it’s enough for Alec to be able to feel it rumbling in his chest.

He can feel Magnus laughing. He can _feel_ it.

Magnus’s hand flicks once, down by his hip. And the belt disappears from under Alec’s fingers.

Well, that’s a relief.

It’s still funny. Alec’s still not sure _why,_ but for some reason, it is. Which is nice. There may not be any goddamn reason for Alec to be giggling into Magnus’s kisses like this, but… but he certainly doesn’t mind. It’s nice. It’s too fucking nice.

And with the damn belt out of the way, that means Alec can-

His heart skips a beat, then pounds with too much force.

And his hands go to the front of Magnus’s jeans. A button, and a zipper. That Alec gets to undo. He gets to do this. His hands feel unsteady, but he undoes the button and tugs down Magnus’s fly and he gets to do it. He gets to do this, and then he’ll get to touch Magnus, to touch Magnus’s cock, make him feel good, make him come.

Alec’s mouth dries up. Fuck, it’s bad enough that he has to pull away from Magnus’s mouth. A single kiss could probably suffocate him right now. Dry him up into dust.

Alright. He’s gonna do this. He’s gonna pull Magnus’s jeans down his hips. He-

He’s not gonna be able to do this twice. He can already tell. So he hooks his fingers into the waistband of Magnus’s jeans first. He wants to make sure he gets Magnus’s jeans _and_ his underwear, all in one go. He can’t take off Magnus’s pants, and then his underwear. There’s too much time, too much opportunity for him to lose his nerve. He needs to do it all at once. He just…

He just needs to find…

Oh.

His fingers are basically all the way down Magnus’s hips now. And he still doesn’t feel any underwear.

So, there _isn’t_ any underwear.

Right.

It’s more than a little unexpected, but in this situation, it actually simplifies things. So Alec doesn’t let himself think much about it. He just leans in, presses his forehead against Magnus’s, and starts pulling down his jeans.

They’re tight. Alec wasn’t really expecting any different, but it makes things a little difficult. It takes more actual _tugging_ than he’d like. He gets Magnus’s waistband down his hips, down his ass, to the tops of his thighs, and he knows that’s enough. That’s it. Magnus’s cock is right there, uncovered, no more than an inch or two away from Alec’s stomach, his hands-

And that awareness is enough to make every muscle in his body tense, all at once.

He’s going to do this.

Holy shit.

_Holy shit._

He’s never done this before. He’s never touched anyone else. He’s never gotten anyone else off. What the _fuck_ does he think he’s doing? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing, he doesn’t know how to do this. He knows how to get himself off, but that’s not the same. This isn’t him. This is Magnus Bane. And Alec’s supposed to make him- make him come. _Alec_ is supposed to be good enough to give Magnus an orgasm.

This is ridiculous. It’s idiotic. It’s terrifying.

Before, when they’ve kissed, when they’ve made out, even when they’d come in their pants on their last date, it wasn’t like this. There wasn’t a purpose to any of those times. It was never their intention for things to end like that. That wasn’t the… goal. The fact that it had been good enough to get them both off had been an _accident._ They hadn’t planned it. They hadn’t even really tried for it.

Now, Alec’s trying. Now, Alec has specifically decided that he’s going to give Magnus a handjob, and that he’s going to make him come.

Which means that now, if he can’t do it, if he’s not good enough, and he can’t make Magnus feel good enough, and he can’t make Magnus come… then Alec’s failed. Then Alec’s fucked it up. He’s not sure he can handle that.

He _knows_ he can’t handle that.

Alec squeezes his eyes shut. And he tries to keep breathing.

Magnus’s fingers brush through Alec’s hair. His hand trails down to the side of Alec’s face, stroking across his cheek. “Alright?”

Alec makes a noise in the back of his throat. He didn’t realize he was that _obviously_ frozen. He didn’t think Magnus would be able to tell. “Yeh-” he frowns. Clears his throat. Tries again. “Yeah, good, just-” he works his lips. “Nervous.” He’s not quite sure where he found the courage to say that, to be so blatantly honest.

Magnus touches his finger to Alec’s chin. Tilts up his face until Alec gets the idea and opens his eyes.

He looks so calm. Just a calm, easy, beautiful face. With those little smudges of makeup under his eyes.

“We don’t have to do this, you know,” Magnus says softly. Fuck, it must be the third or fourth time he’s said something like this. And he’s just as gentle as he was all the other times. Just as genuine. Just as kind.

Alec’s face heats up - though he’s not sure how he has enough blood left for that to be possible. “No- no that’s, not…” He closes his eyes again. Breathes out slowly. “I’m not nervous because I don’t want to. I’m just nervous-” his mouth moves, trying to finish his sentence before his mind can provide the words, “‘cause I… am.” He tries to make it sound as dignified as possible. But still, it comes out sounding pretty damn pathetic. So he makes himself laugh, wanting to acknowledge the ridiculousness of all of this.

But when Alec finally manages to open his eyes again, Magnus just smiles at him, fingers still running slowly along the shape of Alec’s cheek. “Alright, then.”

He tilts his face, and kisses Alec so softly that Alec forgets how to breathe. How to think. His body is aching and his heart is beating too fast and his head is spinning and his hands are fumbling.

And he wraps his fingers around Magnus’s cock. Takes it in his hand.

There’s a little hitch in Magnus’s breath, that’s all. A tiny, fast exhale, and a tiny, fast inhale. Right against Alec’s lips. It’s just a tiny pause, and then he’s kissing Alec again.

Alright.

He can do this.

He can’t really _think_ about it, but he can do it. As long as he doesn’t think about it too much. Think about the softness of Magnus’s skin, the shape, the warmth against his palm. If he starts thinking about it, he’ll think about it too much, and he won’t be able to do it. He just has to… do it. He can do this. He can hold Magnus’s cock in his hand, and kiss him, and slowly start to stroke-

Wait.

That’s not-

It doesn’t feel like he thought it would. There’s something… how the fuck can Alec be surprised right now? It’s a dick, Alec should fucking know what’s going on. But something’s not… something’s different…

Oh.

Right.

Right. Okay.

So. That’s what a foreskin feels like. Right. Good to know.

Alec absolutely _refuses_ to let himself think about that anymore, because that’s the stupidest thing he’s ever done, the stupidest thing he’s ever been surprised by, the stupidest he’s ever felt.

Magnus makes a small sound, a little _whimper,_ right into Alec’s mouth. Because Alec’s kissing him, and stroking his cock at the same time. Kissing him, and touching him, and making him whimper.

Fuck. That’s definitely not a bad start. And it’s… it’s actually-

Huh. It’s actually kinda… simple. It’s not as overwhelming as he’d thought it would be. It’s just kissing, and touching. Things he already knows, just in a different context. It’s strangely easy. It feels less _new_ than he’d expected.

Well, apart from the fact that any time Magnus makes even the tiniest noise, Alec feels like his whole damn body is lighting up with electricity. That’s not exactly a familiar feeling. But, _fuck,_ it’s not like he’s complaining.

Magnus’s head tips back, and he gasps, and that’s… that’s probably a good thing, right? It certainly does something good to Alec’s gut. It’s maybe a little disappointing that Alec can’t kiss him like this-

Except…

He has to crane his head at a pretty unusual angle, but Alec works it out, and manages to kiss Magnus’s neck, hand still on his cock.

Magnus moans - and Alec can feel the vibration of it on his lips, his tongue. “Ah, Alexander.”

Alec gasps against Magnus’s throat, because… fuck.

_Fuck._

Alec suddenly understands why saying Magnus’s name can make his magic react the way it does. Alec’s pretty sure that if there was even a _drop_ of magic in his body, hearing that would have been more than enough to make him blow up a light bulb or two.

It’s almost a little embarrassing, really. Alec is touching Magnus. Alec is - by the Angel - he’s jerking Magnus off. He’s the one doing the all the kissing. So theoretically, Magnus should be the only one enjoying this so much. Alec shouldn’t be so unreasonably hard. Alec shouldn’t feel his dick throb in his jeans every time Magnus so much as sighs.

And right on cue, Magnus sighs again (and Alec’s hips give a pathetic jerk forward). He shifts, first his shoulders, then his hips, then his legs. He lies on his back, stretching out, only keeping his face turned in toward Alec.

Alec adjusts as best he can. He scoots in a bit, letting himself press up rather noticeably against Magnus’s side. He rests one of his legs over Magnus’s hip - and holy _shit_ that should not feel so incredible. And he keeps moving his hand.

Or he starts to, anyway. But after a second, Magnus gently touches his wrist. “Hold out your hand.”

It seems fairly ominous for a mid-handjob request, but Alec trusts Magnus infinitely more than he trusts himself right now. So he lets go of Magnus’s cock, and lays his hand palm-up on Magnus’s hip.

Magnus touches the tip of one finger to the heel of Alec’s hand. And he lightly, _slowly_ runs his finger down Alec’s palm, then up along his middle finger. The touch makes Alec gasp, just because… fuck. Because it’s so hot, for some reason. It’s warm and-

Wet?

Oh. Alec’s not imagining that heat. Magnus’s finger is trailing something onto his hand. The heat is from his magic, and the warmth is in whatever he’s put in Alec’s hand. Hot, wet…

Lube? Yeah, that’s gotta be it. Magnus just magicked a little lube into Alec’s palm.

Alec chokes on a surprised laugh. “That’s convenient.”

And _that_ was a fucking stupid thing to say. Why did he say that? Yes, it’s true, but that doesn’t mean Alec needs to blurt it out in the middle of trying to give Magnus a decent orgasm. ‘Convenient.’ Idiot.

To keep himself from vomiting out any other useless observations, Alec quickly gets his hand around Magnus’s dick again, spreading the lube, trying to see how messy it’ll get.

Huh. That’s… huh.

Alec’s never used lube before. Just lotion, spit, whatever he already had lying around that wouldn’t require any effort. This is different. It’s more slippery than he thought it’d be. There’s something obviously artificial about the feel of it, the way his hand slides down Magnus’s cock. And yeah, that’s understandable, but still. Alec didn’t think he’d be able to feel it quite this much.

Alec’s pulled out of his useless musings by a particularly loud moan. _Particularly_ loud. Throaty, and sharp, breaking off into something high-pitched and whimpery. Like nothing he’s ever heard before. “Oh, _fuck-_ Alec!”

Shit, what did Alec just do? He wasn’t paying attention. Did he squeeze tighter? Move faster? Touch a specific spot?

 _Shit._ He actually managed to do something good and he doesn’t know what the fuck it was.

He tries to do it again, to make Magnus sound like that again. He changes the angle of his hand, goes faster, slower, grips tighter, loosens his hold. He kisses Magnus. He kisses his cheek. He kisses his neck. He licks his neck and mouths at his jaw. He keeps stroking him. He does everything he can think of.

And Magnus makes the most unbelievable noises. Alec pulls away, just a tiny bit, just because he wants to see-

His breath leaves him in a sudden, terrifying rush.

Magnus is laid out, on Alec’s bed, shirtless, with his jeans pushed down to his thighs. He’s breathing too hard, his chest is rising and falling faster than it should, higher than it should. His eyes are closed. His mouth is open. His eyebrows are tilted up. One of his arms is stretched up, buried next to his head under the pillow. And he’s… moving. Sort of. It’s little shifts, here and there. Isolated. He pushes against the headboard, and his arm flexes (defining the muscles even _more,_ not that Alec notices). His legs tense, then stretch. His back arches. His head tips to one side. His jaw trembles as he lets out another little noise.

Alec almost forgets to keep moving his hand.

Magnus is always beautiful. Magnus has always been beautiful, from the first moment Alec met him. No, even before that. The first time Alec saw his picture, in the Institute. Before Alec even met him, he’d known how beautiful Magnus is. Every moment, every second, always.

But this is… this is something else. This isn’t the beauty of Magnus done up in makeup and jewelry. This isn’t the beauty of Magnus smiling, smiling at Alec, laughing at something Alec said, smiling that smile that’s only ever been for him. This is something else entirely. It’s still beautiful, Magnus is unimaginably beautiful like this. But even more than that, even more than just being beautiful…

He’s sexy.

He’s sexy, he’s so fucking sexy it’s stealing Alec’s breath, stealing it right out of his lungs. Hell, he’s so sexy that if Alec only got to _see_ this, if he didn’t get to touch him, or kiss him, or lie with him like this, if he only got to see it, Alec knows it’d still be enough. He’d still be this hard. He’d probably still be able to come, without anyone having to touch him at all. Just from watching this. Just because of how _sexy_ Magnus is.

And, now that he thinks about it, he’s not…

He’s not sure he’s ever actually thought that before. That word. He’s not sure he’s ever let himself think that anyone is sexy before. Not even Magnus.

But now, it’s like he can’t even remember any other words. Magnus is sexy. He’s _writhing_ on Alec’s bed, mostly naked, whimpering and groaning and getting so hot there’s a little bit of sweat up at his hairline, and he’s sexy. This is the sexiest thing Alec has ever seen, it’s the only word Alec has for it, and he wants to say it. He wants to make sure Magnus _knows._

Except, there’s something else he wants, even more than that.

He still hasn’t found it again. He hasn’t been able to repeat whatever he’d done to make Magnus react like _that,_ to cry and moan so loudly and practically shout Alec’s name.

And he wants that again. He wants Magnus to feel that good again. He wants…

He wants to be the one who makes Magnus feel that good.

But it feels like he’s been trying for _hours_ now (even though it’s probably only been a few minutes, if that), and he still doesn’t know what he’d done. How he made Magnus feel like that. Magnus needs to feel good, Magnus deserves to feel that good, and godfuckingdammit, Alec clearly isn’t good enough to give that to him.

Not on his own, anyway.

“What-” his voice is rough, throat dry from too long spent gasping in through his mouth. “What can I do?” He hopes it doesn’t sound too desperate, too pathetic.

Magnus makes a new noise in the back of his throat. Alec isn’t sure what that means. “Here.” He puts his hand on top of Alec’s.

Oh, fuck.

He squeezes Alec’s hand, enough to make Alec tighten his grip. And he starts stroking, back and forth, twisting his wrist a certain way every time.

Gripping Alec’s hand. Guiding Alec’s hand along his cock. Showing him exactly what to do. How tight to hold, how fast to move. So it’s perfect for him, the best it could possibly be.

Alec can’t breathe. He absolutely can’t breathe. His heart can’t beat properly. There’s not enough blood in his body. It’s all in his dick, and all he can do about it is grind himself pathetically against Magnus’s hip.

And Magnus…

Magnus is making those noises again. It starts deep in his body, and Alec can actually hear it work its way up. A deep moan in his chest, a cry in his throat, a whimper in his head.

And it’s loud. He’s loud. He’s so fucking _loud._ Alec’s never heard him be this loud before. Not like this. Not moaning, and crying out, and-

“Yes, _god_ yes- _Alexander._ ”

Fuck. Fucking fuck.

“Fuck,” Alec whispers. He presses his face to Magnus’s, his forehead to Magnus’s cheek. He wants to kiss him, but he doesn’t want to keep Magnus from making these noises, and saying these things. Saying his _name._

And Magnus keeps doing it. Getting even _louder,_ which Alec hadn’t thought was possible. There’s a tiny part of Alec’s brain that wants him to be worried, that wonders if Magnus might be loud enough to overpower Alec’s runes and his own spells.

But honestly, he just can’t find a single fuck to give. He’s sure there have been footsteps in the hallway, like there had been before, when Alec was still listening for them. But he hasn’t heard them. And he doesn’t care.

Hell, at this point, if someone walked in on them, Alec doesn’t even think he’d stop. This is too important. He needs to keep hearing these sounds. He needs to keep hearing Magnus gasp his name. He needs to keep feeling Magnus’s cock in his hand, Magnus’s hand on his. He needs to keep making Magnus feel this good. He needs to make Magnus come.

And with Magnus still guiding his hand like this, Alec is finally starting to think that he’ll actually be able to do it.

It’s still too much. Alec still doesn’t understand how this is happening. Why he’s allowed to do this, to hear this, to see this. To see how Magnus looks like this, with Alec’s hand on him, Alec jerking him off. To see Magnus look this beautiful, and sexy, and gorgeous, and a million other words Alec can’t think of right now.

Alec’s not sure how he’s supposed to survive this.

And then… he’s not sure how he’s supposed to recover from it. How can he deal with the rest of his life, knowing that this has happened? How can he put himself back together and walk back out into the rest of the Institute, like he still cares about anything else that’s happening today? How is he ever supposed to be in this room again, knowing Magnus has been here? How-

How can he ever sleep in this bed again, knowing that Magnus has been in it? Knowing that Magnus has had an orgasm here, on Alec’s mattress, with his head on Alec’s pillow? And… oh, _fuck,_ is the bed going to smell like Magnus now? Will Alec still be able to smell Magnus’s shampoo on his pillowcase, Magnus’s cologne on his sheets? From what Alec can tell, Magnus hasn’t showered yet today, and he highly doubts that he actually put on any cologne just to come here. But Alec can still smell him. The hint of sandalwood that never seems to leave him. The smell of the loft in his clothes. Magnus smells like the loft, the same way that Alec smells like the Institute. It doesn’t matter that Magnus isn’t wearing a scent right now. He still smells like himself.

And when Alec tries to sleep tonight, he’ll be tucking himself into a bed that Magnus has been in. Sheets that smell like him. A pillow with the indent of his head. A bedspread that’s wrinkled and un-made because Magnus is writhing on top of it.

On Sunday, Alec hadn’t been able to sleep because he kept remembering when he’d gotten off in Magnus’s bed. And now, he’ll have to sleep, knowing he’s gotten Magnus off in his bed.

Fuck.

Alec’s gonna have to sleep in the kitchen tonight. Maybe change bedrooms permanently. Find someplace in the Institute where he has no memories of Magnus. A place where he can look at the bed and not see a memory of _this._ The last time, he’d had to jerk himself off just so he could fall asleep. He can’t do that every night. That’d be ridiculous. That’d be _exhausting._

By the Angel, how has Magnus survived all these nights, sleeping in the bed where he and Alec have fooled around? They’re not even finished and Alec already can’t handle it. He highly doubts that Magnus has-

Alec’s gut twists in to a tight, molten knot.

Because maybe Magnus… has.

If Alec had done it, and he’d told Magnus, and Magnus had responded so… nicely, then maybe there’s a chance…

Magnus has let go of Alec’s hand. Apparently, Alec’s figured out how to do this on his own by now. Because Magnus is nodding, groaning, saying “Yes, _yes_ ,” and making every other noise of encouragement Alec can think of.

Alec swallows. He can’t get it out of his head now, the tiny idea, the tiny possibility that maybe Magnus has done what Alec did. That Magnus has touched himself, and-

“Have you ever… thought about me?”

Alec’s not sure how that even got from his brain to his mouth without his better judgement stopping it, much less how he managed to get it all out of his mouth in one coherent sentence. Alec’s not entirely sure if the question is specific enough, but given the context, given what they’d talked about earlier, and given how well Magnus understands him… he’s pretty sure it got the point across. Just having it out there, having the question out in the open air between them is enough to send his entire body into overdrive. The electricity is under his skin again. His hand starts moving a little faster. He’s tight, everything is pulled too taut, ready to snap.

Magnus opens his eyes, looks at Alec-

The glamour is gone. His eyes are gold, and bright, and only a precious few inches away from Alec.

Alec’s never seen Magnus’s real eyes this _close_ before. Right here, right in front of him, completely exposed. It’s not a little flicker, or a brief look before Magnus covers them again. He just looks at Alec, with his real eyes.

And he smirks. “Yes,” he whispers.

Alec’s gut _lurches,_ like his whole body is trying to cram itself into his dick. His hips jerk forward, his cock _aches,_ and for a moment he thinks he might actually come, just from that. _“Fuck,_ ” he bites out between tightly clenched teeth. His body still isn’t sure what it’s supposed to do, if it wants to come, if it wants to listen to his brain’s command to keep moving his hand, or focus on grinding his hips against Magnus. He can’t focus. His arm is so tired from moving this fast, this long, not stopping. His wrist is sore. It almost hurts. He lets go of Magnus’s cock.

Magnus _whines,_ an actual, terrified little whine. “No, nonono, please, don’t stop, _please-_ ” he gasps in a weak breath. “Alec, so close…”

Well _shit._

That’s certainly not gonna convince Alec’s dick that he’s not supposed to have an orgasm right now.

It’s more than enough to make Alec’s arm feel like it’s never been sore in his entire life, like he’s never been tired, like he could jerk Magnus off for years without having to stop. He takes Magnus’s cock again, starts stroking him again, using the same grip that Magnus had showed him, twisting his wrist just the same way, but faster now, faster and faster, wanting it so badly, so fucking badly.

This is too good. This shouldn’t be so good. Alec tries to pull away so he can look at Magnus, but Magnus doesn’t let him. He fists a hand in Alec’s hair, keeps his face close, and kisses him. Rough, with teeth and tongue. Sloppy. Wet.

Alec feels too good. He feels better than he’s ever felt in his entire life, desperate and pleasured and so ridiculously _close._ He’s figured out a rhythm now, a way he can keep stroking Magnus’s cock, and grind his own cock against Magnus’s hip at the same time. All while Magnus is kissing him, moaning, whimpering, kissing him-

Magnus breaks away. His eyes are closed, but he’s nodding. Panting. “Yes, Alec,” it’s just a whisper now, every sound he makes is getting quieter and quieter, even his breathing.

He gasps. “I’m coming, _Alec,_ I-”

His voice breaks off. His lips are still parted, but there’s no sound anymore. His face is tense, constricted, even though his mouth is forced open.

Alec glances down just in time to see the first drop of come hit Magnus’s stomach.

Holy shit.

Holy shit. “Holy _shit._ ” Fuck, _fuck-_

Alec’s gut twists again, and there’s heat in his veins, in his blood, and his hips jerk forward again, his cock presses against Magnus’s hip, and he tries to bite back a strangled cry-

Fuck.

He doesn’t want to close his eyes. He wants to keep watching Magnus. He wants to focus on Magnus. Magnus’s voice has come back, and he’s groaning and gasping and saying Alec’s name over and over and Alec wants to give all of his focus to that-

But he can’t. Because he’s too busy coming in his pants.

He doesn’t feel aware of himself again until he feels Magnus’s hand on his. Gently stopping him. Gently pulling Alec’s hand away from his cock.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Magnus is holding Alec’s hand, pressed to Magnus’s stomach.

And it’s wet. All of it. Alec’s hand, Magnus’s hand, Magnus’s stomach… and Alec’s boxers. And hell, it’s not even just that. Magnus’s forehead is sweaty. His chest. His lips are wet with spit, just like Alec’s. Everything is just… wet.

Fuck. How did that happen?

Alec’s disoriented. Weak. His head is fuzzy. His arm is sore. His limbs are a little unsteady. A little shaky. He’s shaking.

But Magnus is steady. Alec opens his eyes, and Magnus is just lying next to him. Holding his hand, their legs tangled together. He’s smiling softly. Breathing heavily. He’s laughing a bit. He looks relaxed, sleepy.

Satisfied.

He opens his eyes. The glamour is back. The smile is still there.

And he glances down. “Would you like me to…?” he lets go of Alec’s hand, moves his hand toward Alec’s hip, his crotch-

“N-no,” Alec sputters. He backs away, shifts his hips away from Magnus, tries to get as much distance as possible to hide the mess in his pants.

Magnus’s eyebrows tilt up. “Darling,” he says, gentle, so horribly gentle, “I’m asking because I _want_ to.”

Alec’s face heats up about a million degrees. “Well then you’ll have to wait for next time.” He says it as quickly as he can. He’d make it one word, if he could.

And he impatiently waits for the bed to swallow him whole, for Raziel to let him die of embarrassment as quickly as possible.

Magnus frowns, but he doesn’t try to chase after Alec. He stays on the other side of the bed, just looking over at him, looking him up and down-

His eyes get the tiniest bit wider. And then his face settles again, into that same smile. “Oh. Well, then.” He wiggles his fingers, the same way he’d done on their last date, when this was all over.

Alec feels the magic on his skin, just for a moment. A little tickle on his hand, and in his boxers. It makes him want to shiver, but he fights it. He just waits for the heat to fade. And he’s cleaned up. The lube. The come in his underwear. The come on his hand-

But… when he thinks about it… he’s not entirely sure he wanted Magnus to take that away. He looks over, and when he sees that Magnus has pulled up his jeans, and magicked away all of the come on his stomach, he feels a pang of… disappointment.

But he’s not gonna let himself think about _that._

Magnus is still looking at him. Still smiling. It’s a gentle look. Understanding, somehow. Like he sees Alec’s blush. Like he knows why Alec pulled away.

And suddenly, Magnus looks away. Glances up at the ceiling, then around the room. Looking for something.

“What?” Alec asks, mostly on instinct.

Magnus chuckles. “Just checking for damage. Broken fixtures. Fires. You know.”

The jumble of knots in Alec’s stomach starts to loosen. Like one knot in the mess gets untied. Maybe two. “Does that happen a lot?”

“It’s certainly not supposed to,” Magnus says, almost playfully. “After so many years, I should really have better control than that.” He looks back over at Alec. “It’s embarrassing, honestly.”

Alec frowns. “Really?” Alec certainly hadn’t thought it was embarrassing to see Magnus’s magic like that. To make him lose control. Alec had thought a _lot_ of things about that, but embarrassment wasn’t one of them.

Magnus nibbles at his lower lip. Like he’s deciding something. Like he’s… deciding if he should say something. He can’t be…

He can’t be gathering up his nerve, can he?

He looks away again, back up at the ceiling. “The last time you were over, when we-” he stops for a moment, like he’s looking for the right word. “When we… finished.” He stops again, but this time it’s like he’s making sure Alec knows what he means, that he isn’t scandalized by his word choice. “I could tell that a bit of magic had gotten away from me. I could feel it.” He smiles. “But nothing was on fire, nothing blew up, the bed was still in the bedroom. So I assumed everything was fine.”

Magnus’s smile twists a bit. He looks… shy, almost. Like he’s nervous about what he’s going to say. Like he’s actually, _truly_ embarrassed. “And then, after you left, I went to take a shower. But I got into the bathroom and…” he bites his lip again. “All of my towels were missing.”

Alec tilts his head. “Huh?”

Magnus shrugs. “Every single towel was just _gone._ Even the little washcloths. The entire linen cupboard.” He makes a flat, tired gesture with one hand. “Gone.”

“Where’d they go?”

“Well I don’t know, do I? That’s the problem.”

“But…” Alec furrows his eyebrows. “You just… _banished_ all of your towels?”

“Apparently.” Magnus shrugs again. “I knew I did _something,_ but I didn’t know what. And then they were gone.”

Alec shakes his head. “Can’t you bring them back?”

“I can’t summon something up unless I know where it is in the first place, Alexander.” Magnus does that tiny little flick with his eyes, that thing he does that’s one step below actually rolling them.

“But then- so…” Alec works his lips. “What’d you do?”

Magnus turns his head to face Alec again. And he’s got that look, that little tilt in his eyebrows. That little embarrassed smile. “I bought new towels.”

And Alec-

Alec laughs. Sudden, and loud. Starting as a little sputter, but growing until he’s shaking on the bed.

And Magnus is laughing with him. Turning on his side, scooting in close again. He wraps his arm around Alec’s waist, tucks his knee between Alec’s legs. Presses their foreheads together.

There’s still an Institute, right outside Alec’s door. There are reports he hasn’t finished filing. He thinks he has a meeting later - he can’t quite remember.

He hasn’t eaten. His lunch break will probably be over any minute now. He didn’t eat.

Magnus has to leave. Alec has to go to the bathroom, fix his hair, wait for his blush to go away (not that he’s super optimistic about that), fix his shirt, make it look like this never happened. Like he didn’t just spend the last half hour in bed with his boyfriend. Kissing. Touching. Coming. He has to pretend none of it happened.

But he knows.

And Magnus knows.

Magnus tilts his face. Brushes his nose against Alec’s. “Good?” he asks quietly. So gentle. So sincere.

Alec smiles. And he puts his hand on Magnus. Touches his bare chest. “Great.” 

 

 

Magnus’s head slips down Alec’s shoulder.

And he jerks. Snaps back. Wakes up. With a little gasp in through his nose.

Alec tries not to smile. Magnus’s little nod-offs are getting closer and closer together. It used to be every few minutes. By now, it feels like it’s every ten seconds, at least.

“Tired?” Alec asks, probably for the hundredth time tonight.

“Mm, no. Not’t all,” Magnus mumbles. His answers get quieter every time. Less coherent. He makes a weird sound, like he’s trying to smother a yawn. And he snuggles a little closer to Alec.

Luckily, this has been going on long enough that Alec’s heart just _barely_ starts fluttering. Magnus has been practically falling asleep since the moment Alec got here tonight, and he’s been doing most of that sleeping right on top of Alec.

They’re spread out on the couch (one of the most comfortable ones Alec’s seen so far), feet resting on the gigantic ottoman, tucked in toward each other. Magnus has been shifting and rearranging all night, but Alec’s been pretty much stationary for the last three hours or so. Just sprawled on Magnus’s couch, watching Food Network, with Magnus desperately pretending to be awake next to him.

Alec offered to cancel, offered to postpone their date, to wait for a night when Magnus _isn’t_ so burned out that he’s barely conscious.

But Magnus had insisted. Every time. He wanted Alec to come over. He didn’t have the energy to magic them up some dessert, like he’d promised he would, but Alec didn’t care. They haven’t done anything. They haven’t done _anything._ By the Angel, Magnus is so fucking exhausted from his stupidly busy day that he’s barely even been able to string together a sentence all night.

But he’d still insisted.

It’s been nine days. Nine days since they last saw each other. Since that stupid, ridiculous, _unbelievable_ time at the Institute. Over a week, with only texts, and quick little phone calls. Nothing else. Nine whole days.

So Magnus still wanted to see him. Even though he’s exhausted. Even though he can’t scrape together the energy to do anything other than nod off next to Alec. With his head in Alec’s lap. And now, resting his head on Alec’s shoulder. He’s been moving around a lot.

It’s been nine days since the last time they saw each other. And now, it’s been over a month. Of this. Over an entire month since their first date. Over a month together.

And somehow, that feels… right. It’s still fucking unbelievable. It still makes absolutely no goddamn sense that Alec’s ended up here. But once he gets past that rather glaring roadblock, _this_ part of it makes sense.

Sitting on Magnus’s couch. Curled up, watching tv. With Chairman Meow sleeping in his lap. And with Magnus sleeping against his shoulder.

They’ve been like this for three hours. Alec could easily stay for another three. Another three hours, another three days, another three years. He doesn’t care. He just wants to stay. Just like this.

But he can’t. He knows he can’t.

It’s after midnight. He already has to get up in less than six hours, and he’s not even home yet. And it’s not like Magnus is in any shape to make him a portal to get him to the Institute a little faster. The night has already gotten too late, and Alec is still such a long way from getting to sleep.

Unless… unless he…

There’s a perfectly good bed, less than ten yards away from them. It’s a really amazing bed, actually. And any minute now, Magnus will be in it. Sleeping peacefully. Snuggled in his soft, silk sheets. On his soft mattress. With all that extra room. More than enough for him, more than enough for both-

Alec’s chest tightens.

No.

He can’t do that. Not…

Not tonight, anyway.

He’s expected back at the Institute. He doesn’t have extra clothes. Jace and Izzy know he’s here, and they’ll _definitely_ know if he doesn’t come home. And Magnus…

Magnus is barely awake. He hasn’t been coherent for more than a few minutes at a time tonight. If Alec had asked before, if he’d been prepared, if he’d given Magnus some warning, then maybe. But like this, it wouldn’t work. It wouldn’t be fair. Crashing in Magnus’s bed when he’s not awake enough to tell Alec to fuck off if that’s what he wanted.

Not tonight. He can’t stay here tonight.

But… next time. Maybe.

It’s enough to make Alec’s heart speed up a bit.

But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s late. He’s not staying tonight, and it’s late. He’s already stayed longer than he should, really, with Magnus like this. Magnus needs sleep. Magnus shouldn’t have been trying to keep himself awake this long in the first place. And now, it looks like it’s completely impossible for him to keep pretending.

Because he’s dozing on Alec’s shoulder again. His hair tickling Alec’s cheek. His legs curled up, feet resting on Alec’s shins. His hands on Alec’s thighs. Breathing heavily. Slowly.

It’s been at least a couple of minutes now. Three or four commercials have gone by on the tv. Magnus hasn’t woken up.

It’s heartbreaking, it’s the hardest thing Alec’s ever had to do, but he makes himself do it. He moves his shoulder, just a tiny bit. “Magnus.”

“Mm?”

“Magnus, I have to go home.”

“Mm-hmm.”

He falls asleep again.

Alec smiles. The butterflies in his chest are sinking, settling into his stomach. “Magnus. I have to leave.”

“Nngh?”

Alec feels weak. “I’m leaving, Magnus.”

Magnus nods. “Yeah.”

He falls asleep again.

Alec sighs. This is too much.

It’s slightly less devestating to wake up the Chairman, so he starts there. He moves his legs a bit first, hoping to gently nudge the cat out of his comfy position, so he’ll get up of his own will and Alec can feel less guilty about it.

Luckily, the _tiniest_ movement of his leg makes Chairman Meow lurch awake instantly. Less-luckily, he decides to dig all of his claws into Alec’s thigh, in case he’s about to be dislodged.

“Dammit, Chairman,” Alec whispers sharply, poking at his butt until he gets the idea and leaps off of the couch with an unhappy sound.

Okay, now the hard part.

Alec supports Magnus’s head with one hand as he sits up, then scoots away a bit, then starts to stand-

Magnus inhales sharply. He blinks, eyes unfocused. And he turns his groggy gaze up to Alec. “You’re leaving?”

And godfuckingdammit, Alec can feel an actual rush of affection hit him like a brick. Magnus’s sleepy look of disappointment and confusion is downright _smothering_ him.

“Yeah,” Alec says with a voice that’s as weak as his knees. “It’s late. I’m tired. I should really get some sleep.”

Magnus nods - though Alec somehow doubts that he realized the words were really for him.

“Have a good night, Magnus.”

It feels like it’s killing him to do it, but Alec makes himself turn away. Toward the door.

“Alexander-” Magnus’s voice is bleary. He barely gets through all of the syllables. But he grabs Alec’s hand before he can step away.

Magnus pulls himself to his feet (or, really, he tugs Alec’s hand, and Alec gets the idea and pulls Magnus to his feet for him). He takes a step in, and Alec _ecstatically_ tilts his head in preparation for a kiss…

Oh.

_Oh._

Magnus steps closer. He presses his cheek to Alec’s. And he wraps his arms around him.

For a moment, Alec doesn’t know what to do. His limbs don’t remember how to… anything. He doesn’t remember how to be a person.

But once he figures it out, he puts his arms around Magnus.

And he hugs him.

It’s…

It’s a little bizarre, isn’t it? To realize that they’ve been together for over a month. They’ve spent so much time together. They’ve done so much.

And this… This is the first time they’ve hugged.

It’s the first time Magnus has hugged Alec. The first time Alec has hugged Magnus.

It’s different. Logically, it shouldn’t be. But it is.

It is.

They’ve been cozied up to each other all night. Magnus slept with his head in Alec’s lap less than an hour ago. And all the other nights, before this one, they’ve kissed. They’ve touched. They’ve been all over each other. It’s not like this is the first time they’ve…

But it’s still so different.

Magnus ducks his head, so his face is tucked against Alec’s neck. He hums into the collar of Alec’s shirt. He splays out his fingers on Alec’s back.

Alec doesn’t think he’s ever… felt this much. It’s so soft, so gentle, but it’s overwhelming. It feels like it should be difficult to breathe.

But somehow, this is the easiest he’s ever breathed in his life.

He tightens his arms around Magnus. Holds him a little closer.

And they stay like that. Standing, with their arms around each other. Close. Breathing. With Alec feeling so much, he doesn’t know what to do with himself, except to stay. To keep hugging Magnus.

Seconds go by. Maybe minutes.

“Magnus?”

“Yes, darling?”

“I have to go home.”

“I know, darling.”

Seconds go by.

“But, I wish you didn’t,” Magnus whispers.

Alec makes a weak little noise. This is too much. It’s too much. Magnus doesn’t usually say things like that. Magnus makes sure Alec keeps track of how long he’s here. Magnus makes sure Alec isn’t late getting back to the Institute. Magnus makes sure Alec leaves when Alec wants to leave.

Magnus doesn’t say things like this.

Alec swallows. “Me too.”

Minutes go by.

Alec tilts his head in toward Magnus.

“I have to leave,” he says again.

Magnus nods, and hums quietly.

Alec holds Magnus even tighter. “Goodnight, Magnus.”

“Goodnight, Alexander.”

Neither of them move.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone out there thinks that Magnus Bane's ridiculous belt choices were my idea, I invite you to peruse the [Beltgate](http://my-nameless-bliss.tumblr.com/tagged/Beltgate) tag. That shit's canon.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parents.  
> It doesn’t feel right yet. Alec hasn’t absorbed it yet. It feels like a word he’s tacking onto himself. Like he wrote it on a post-it and stuck it to his forehead. It’s a label he’s stuck on himself from the outside. One that doesn’t actually fit. One that doesn’t apply to him.  
> That’s one of the pieces. The title, the word. It’s a piece he hasn’t gotten yet. But…  
> But he will. He knows he will.

Max is six months old.

Or, something like that. They don’t really know, but six months seems to be the general consensus (which is all well and good as far as Alec is concerned, because left to his own judgement, his best guess would just be ‘baby’). Maryse and Catarina had been the primary resources for picking a number - seeing as they’ve spent more time with infants than the rest of them combined.

So Max is six months old. That’s what they’ve decided. And unless there’s a way of cutting open a tiny person to count the rings like a tree, they’re not going to get a more official answer than that.

It’s weird, having to _pick_ an age for their baby. Alec had thought picking his _name_ was daunting enough. This somehow feels even more basic, more fundamental than that.

Then again, maybe that’s just because it’s something the vast majority of parents don’t have to pick. It’s not usually a decision. The birthday comes with the baby. It’s supposed to be a package deal.

But that-

Alec smiles.

He hadn’t thought of that detail yet.

“We’re…” he breathes out a quiet laugh. “We’re gonna have to pick a birthday for him, aren’t we?”

Magnus's eyes get a little wide. His mouth curves down a bit. He clearly hadn’t thought of that yet either. “Oh, god.” His nose scrunches up. “What if he doesn’t like it?”

Alec laughs again, mostly breath, not sound. “Mags, as long as he gets a party, I don’t think he’s gonna care what day it is. I don’t think _any_ kid cares what day it is.” He frowns. Mulls that over. “As long as we don’t pick, like… Christmas. Or New Year’s.”

Magnus threads his fingers through Alec’s, smiling down at their hands. “We technically could. If we’re sticking with six months, that means it’s in January. December wouldn’t be _such_ a stretch-”

“We’re not picking Christmas, Mags,” Alec says with a lopsided grin.

There’s a noise from the crib. Something nasal and fussy, but not too far off from a yawn.

Magnus and Alec look up in unison, twisting their necks to get the best possible view of the crib - which is at the foot of the bed (it’s admittedly not the best setup, but this crappy old attic wasn’t exactly designed with crib space in mind). Through the bars, Alec can see Max moving a bit, kicking his legs, shifting an arm, still making those little noises…

Until he settles back down. It only takes a handful of seconds, maybe a minute. He stops shifting. The noises soften, smooth back out into deep, heavy breaths.

Alec sighs out - and realizes that he’s been holding his breath, waiting to see if this was going to be another fit of crying. But with the baby crisis momentarily averted, he lets his head flop back down on the pillow.

Magnus takes another moment. Still craning his neck, holding himself up awkwardly, staring down the length of the bed.

He hums as he eventually settles back in. Snuggles against Alec again.

They’ve been in bed for a while now. A few minutes, at the very least. Alec’s kinda lost his ability to keep track of time over the past day or so. It’s like time isn’t working right - both in the immediate, present sense, and in the… grander sense. He’s not sure how long they’ve been in bed. And he’s also not sure what day it is. What time of day. There’s a little bit of weak light peeking in through the curtains, so it’s either morning or evening. And it’s… Alec thinks it’s probably more likely that it’s… morning?

Regardless of the time of day (night, whatever), it’s the very first time Max has agreed to lie quietly in his crib for any length of time. So Alec and Magnus figured it was probably smart for them to take the opportunity to get some sleep.

And, of course, since this is their _one_ chance, their first chance in _hours,_ they’re not tired. At all.

They’re putting in the effort, at least. They changed into pajamas (they took off their jeans, anyway. That still counts for something). They closed the curtains. They got under the covers. They’ve followed all the traditional ‘sleeping’ rules.

Except for the part where they sleep.

They’re smushed onto one pillow, face to face, with their heads tilted toward each other so they can whisper together. The justification was that they don’t want to wake up Max, but Alec has to admit, huddled together under the covers, whispering… it’s nice. Silly. It feels like they’re kids at a sleepover. It wouldn’t feel out of place if they pulled the blanket over their heads and started telling ghost stories with flashlights.

Magnus loosens his hold on Alec’s hand. Spreads his fingers a bit.

Alec takes the invitation. He untangles his fingers from Magnus’s, and starts trailing them across his hand instead. He tilts his head a bit more, presses his forehead against Magnus’s, keeps his eyes down, watching his fingers trace across Magnus’s palm.

“Is it weird that we’re gonna be a little bit… wrong? About how old he is?”

Magnus hums again, like the tiniest laugh. “Darling, give us some credit. There’s a one in three-hundred-sixty-five chance that we’ll get his age _exactly_ right.” He rubs his knee against Alec’s, under the blanket. “I, for one, am perfectly confident in those odds.”

Alec smiles. “I suppose if we never _know_ we’re wrong, it doesn’t matter.”

“I highly doubt he’ll mind being off by a handful of days.”

“I guess.” Alec presses his lips together. He uses his finger to start drawing little shapes on Magnus’s skin. And he chuckles. “Until he’s like, _almost_ twenty-one. Then he’ll probably try to say we picked the wrong day, just so he can buy booze sooner.”

Magnus furrows his eyebrows. “Don’t be silly, Alexander. He’ll just portal himself to a country with a lower drinking age.”

It takes a moment for that to sink in, but then-

Alec gasps in through his nose. His eyes go wide. His mouth falls open, just a bit. “That’s…”

That’s not something he’d thought about. How the fuck do you keep tabs on a rebellious teenager who can magically poof himself _anywhere_ at _any_ moment? How do they… what…

Magnus laughs. He curls his fingers, brushes them against Alec’s as he keeps tracing Magnus’s palm. “We have _plenty_ of time before we have to worry about that, angel.”

Alec works his lips. Moves his jaw.

“R-right. Yeah.” He takes a breath. “Yeah. Plenty of time.”

Plenty of time. Plenty of time before Max gets to that point. Plenty of time where he’ll be… at different points. Where he’ll be growing up. Learning. Being… him. Being.

By the Angel.

It’s been hitting Alec in little pieces. There’s this big, _gigantic_ … thing, that’s part of him now. But it’s not all here yet. He realizes they need to pick a birthday for him, and another piece hits. He realizes they haven’t given him a middle name yet, another piece. He realizes they need to turn the guest room into a baby’s room, and it’s another piece. He realizes they need stuff. All the stuff they’ve scavenged together since yesterday, but… just… so much _more_ of it. Infinitely more. Permanently more. Diapers, clothes, formula, bottles, toys, things neither of them have even thought of yet… and it’s another piece, plus all the pieces he knows haven’t hit yet, the awareness of the empty space where the pieces will go. He realizes he needs to do something about the Institute, that he can’t be there every waking moment anymore, that he might not be there at _all_ anymore. And then, he realizes that he doesn’t think he even _wants_ to be there anymore - and that’s another piece. He realizes that Max will be a rebellious teenager someday, that he’ll be a kid who could dislike the name they chose for him, dislike the birthday they’ll choose for him, that he’ll grow up, and be there, always be there, and the present feels so permanent and overwhelming but it’s _nothing_ compared to this new future that just literally landed on their doorstep (well, _a_ doorstep, not really ‘theirs’), and that’s a piece that hits him now even though he can’t understand it.

He can’t understand it. Not yet. Not fully. It’s too big. The pieces are just starting to hit him, and he knows - he _hopes_ that eventually, he’ll have all of them. He’ll feel everything fall into place. And this won’t be new anymore. Won’t be terrifying anymore. He’ll have all the pieces, and he’ll understand them, and this won’t be a thing, anymore. It’ll just be… him. Who he is.

He wonders if all parents go through this. If it feels as big to them. If they get the pieces all at once, or in fragments, like him.

Maybe it’s different if you have time to prepare. If you know you’re going to be a parent _before_ you hold your kid for the first time. Alec imagines that _any_ amount of time, of preparation, would be helpful. Months, or years, hell, a _day_ would have been nice. That would have been plenty of time to get some of the pieces. At least one or two. Anything.

Because now there’s… there’s so much. So much he doesn’t know - that _they_ don’t know. About how to do this. How to be parents.

Parents.

He repeats the word in his mind a few times. Turning it over. Breaking it apart. Putting it back together.

Parents. _Parents._

It doesn’t feel right yet. It’s not… Alec hasn’t absorbed it yet. It feels like a word he’s tacking onto himself. Like he wrote it on a post-it and stuck it to his forehead. It’s a label he’s stuck on himself from the outside. One that doesn’t actually fit. One that doesn’t apply to him.

That’s one of the pieces. The title, the word. It’s a piece he hasn’t gotten yet. But…

But he will. He knows he will.

They’re still not sleeping. They should be sleeping. They both know there are probably only a few minutes left before the peace and quiet wear off. Who knows when they’ll get another chance. They should sleep, while they can.

Alec’s finger is still drawing shapes on Magnus’s palm.

Magnus is still watching. Still smiling. Still brushing his foot against Alec’s.

He hums. He catches Alec’s fingers in his own, threads their hands together again. Still watching. Still smiling.

And it’s…

It’s another piece. Alec feels it fall into place.

“Magnus?”

“Hm?”

Alec looks at him. “We have a son.”

Magnus’s smile gets wider. His eyebrows tilt up. He can feel it, Alec can tell. He can feel the same disbelief. The same… all of it. “I know.” They’re still whispering. It’s still for Max’s sake, but it’s also… because it’s for them. Just for them. “Kind of amazing, isn’t it?”

Alec smiles. And he squeezes Magnus’s hand. “Yeah. Pretty amazing.”

 

 

Max is nine months old.

And Alec _still_ hasn’t figured out the best way to fold a onesie.

It’s the damn snaps. And all the seams. They’re too bulky on such tiny articles of clothing. It feels like he can never get them to lie perfectly flat. It’s not the most ergonomical use of drawer space. Alec _knows_ it.

So this time, he’s avoiding the ‘flat’ concept entirely. He’s ignoring flat, and aiming for small. Folding up the crotch and the arms and smushing it all into as many halves as possible. Right now, his goal is the dimensions of a sock ball. Then they’ll at least be able to cram as many of them as possible into the drawer without stacking them. They’ll be able to see all of them at once. That’s the goal. The… upside.

At this point, Alec will take any upside he can get.

The laundry is spread out around him on the rug, in vaguely-organized little heaps. Still the tiniest bit warm from the dryer. Alec is carefully balancing sorting, folding, arranging in the hamper, and keeping the Chairman from jumping into said hamper every time Alec tries to throw in another bundled-up pair of socks.

And, for his part, Magnus is not-so-carefully balancing Max in his lap.

He’s sitting on the edge of the couch, with his knees together, holding Max’s arms. He’s singing a repetitive, wordless song, and bouncing Max to the beat of it. And at a certain point of the song (the same part, every single time, no matter how many times he goes through it), he spreads his knees, so Max “falls” between his legs, holding his arms to keep him from falling too far or too roughly.

And when the song ends, Magnus pulls Max back up onto his lap… and starts over.

And Max _loves_ it. Every single time. He laughs and gurgles throughout the song, voice punctuated by the bouncing of Magnus’s legs. And when Magnus gets to that point and lets him fall, he shrieks with loud, _thrilled,_ surprised laughter.

Every. Single. Time.

Magnus can draw it out. Wait for the moment, the particular note. Hold Max still for second after suspenseful second. Or he can rush the whole thing, dropping Max and pulling him back up in the blink of an eye. He can do it over and over again. All goddamn night. The entire time it takes for Alec to fold a load of tiny laundry. Magnus can keep the predictable, repetitive game going minute after minute after hour after hour.

Max still fucking loves it.

Magnus starts the song over yet _again._ Starts bouncing Max. Starts his musical little string of “buh-dah-bum”s.

And Max starts babbling with him. Like he’s doing his best to sing along.

Alec smiles his way through folding up a bib.

But there’s… there’s something else to it. Something he wasn’t expecting. Something… tugging. In his brain. In his stomach.

He sets the bib in the hamper, lifting the Chairman off of a pile of freshly-folded towels. And he gnaws at the inside of his lip.

“Y’know, that was-” he stops. He keeps smiling, but he shakes his head a little. And he laughs quietly. With a soft disbelief. “My dad used to do that. With me.”

Magnus looks over at him, surprised, and maybe a little amused. “Really?” He keeps bouncing Max (who doesn’t seem to notice that the song has stopped, and keeps gurgling out his own version of it).

Alec’s face twists up, and he’s not quite sure what expression it’s supposed to be. He grabs another bib from the pile, absently folding it in half. “Yeah.”

It doesn’t really feel like he’s… remembering it. Because he didn’t realize he’d ever forgotten it. It’s not like he has an abundance of _fond_ memories of growing up with Robert, so it’s almost like… like it made more sense to not have this particular memory. He didn’t feel like he was missing any happy nostalgia about his dad, because he didn’t feel like there should have been any there in the first place.

But now…

It’s such a clear memory. He must have still been doing it when he was significantly older than Max is now, because he can remember it perfectly. Wandering into Robert’s office, when he clearly wasn’t supposed to be in there, when Robert clearly had more important things to be doing. Hoisting himself up onto Robert’s lap without waiting for an invitation.

And Robert, inevitably, invariably scooting his chair away from his desk. Giving them a bit more room. Taking Alec’s hands, and-

“But he used a different song.” Alec’s eyebrows furrow, but he’s smiling. “He always did ‘Pop Goes the Weasel’.”

Magnus hums. “An understandable choice.”

Alec makes a sound that he thinks was supposed to be a laugh. It’s just… “It’s just kinda… bizarre now. I haven’t thought about that in-” he frowns. “Decades, I guess.” He puts the folded bib in the hamper. Grabs the last one in the pile. “And, I mean-” He shakes his head, tries to laugh again. “I _know_ it happened. I can remember it. But it doesn’t seem right. I can’t imagine Robert Lightwood stopping work to play a dumb game with his kid. It doesn’t seem possible.” He smooths the bib out on the carpet, with more effort than it requires. Not really thinking about what he’s doing.

And eventually, he shrugs. “And I guess I figured it was something _he_ came up with. I didn’t think I’d ever see anyone else do the same thing.”

Magnus makes a thoughtful noise. “Well. Maybe it’s some sort of universal, deep-rooted, fatherly instinct.” He looks at Alec with a small smirk. “Even the really shitty ones can figure it out.”

Alec laughs quietly, before he can really think about it. Because he looks at Magnus, and they’ve both got the same sort of smile, and it should be little moment that amounts to absolutely nothing, but…

It’s not something they talk about. It’s something they _have_ talked about - what it was like, growing up. Being kids. Their parents. But not often, and not much. Only one or two real conversations, even after all this time together.

And it’s never been anything like this, like… pleasant reminiscence. Nostalgia. They weren’t good conversations. It wasn’t something they wanted to talk about, it was something they _needed_ to talk about, something that needed to be said once, and then never said again.

They don’t talk about it like this. They don’t talk about Robert dropping his work to play a silly game with Alec - the same silly game Magnus is currently playing with Max. A silly game that Magnus… maybe learned from someone else.

Max’s babbling gets louder. A little stronger, a little less coherent, a little more frustrated. He pulls one of his arms out of Magnus’s grip and twists around, like he’s trying to get his mouth around as much of his shoulder as possible.

It breaks the moment. That odd moment of… whatever that was. That conversation is done. And Alec thinks he’s a little more grateful for that than he should be.

Magnus stops bouncing Max when his babbling starts transitioning into fussing - which is basically just pre-crying, possibly pre-meltdown. He takes Max’s arm back, trying to keep him from biting or tasting or whatever the hell he was planning on doing with it. “Alright, Blueberry, what’s the matter?” He gently pushes up Max’s little sleeve, getting a closer look at his shoulder.

Alec sets aside the last bib and gathers up the last remnants of the laundry (mostly bleached-stained washcloths and socks without a match). “How’s it look?”

Magnus gathers Max up in his arms, pulling him closer so he’s actually sitting in his lap instead of on his knees. And after a few seconds of consideration, he sighs. “Certainly not any better.” He looks for a few more moments, then tugs Max’s sleeve back down. “But not any worse, either.” He takes Max’s hands and wiggles them around with a big, silly grin. “You’ll be just fine, won’t you, sweetheart?”

Max makes a few emotionally vague noises, something between crying and talking and maybe even laughing. But he turns his head again, still trying to get at his shoulder.

It’s the newest in a small string of rashes. Luckily, this one is fairly mild, contained to his shoulders and a bit of his back, and he seems to be more inconvenienced than unhappy. Most of his rashes have been tame enough, and have come and gone in a matter of days. But there have been a few _nightmares_ in the past few months. Sleepless nights stretching into sleepless weeks, Max crying until his voice wore out, rashes and hives and inflammations that only worsened when they came into contact with medicine or treatments. Even Magnus’s magic can’t seem to do a damn bit of good for him. Their only option has been to struggle through, while scrambling to figure out what the fuck is causing it.

“Is that from the load I just washed?” Alec glances to indicate Max’s onesie.

Magnus nods, still trying to hold Max’s attention well enough to distract him from his discomfort.

Alec tosses the few lonely socks into the hamper, savoring the finality of it. “I used the new detergent Jocelyn gave us. If it doesn’t make him worse, we might finally have a winner.” They’ve cycled through what feels like every conceivable brand, every bottle they can find with words like ‘Sensitive’ and ‘Free’ and ‘Clean’ and ‘Gentle’, just in case that’s the culprit.

They’ve also been cycling through types of fabric, clothing, diapers, bedding, soap, lotion, every damn thing that touches his skin. Hell, last month they’d even kept Chairman Meow quarantined for a week in case it was cat allergies suddenly manifesting (but, of course, the quarantine and deep-cleaning of the nursery had proved all for naught, since Max’s rashes had only gotten worse, _and_ he started wailing whenever he saw that they were keeping the Chairman away from him).

Magnus steals another glance at the rash, pursing his lips. “He didn’t have any problems in the bath. I don’t think it’s the soap this time.”

“Did you use any lotion?”

“Not yet.” Magnus frowns. “I don’t think we’ve switched anything else since his last rash cleared up. I don’t-”

He stops, and presses his lips together.

Max gets bored with the thoughtful silence pretty damn quick, and busies himself with the buttons on Magnus’s shirt, though he apparently can’t decide if he wants to touch them or eat them.

Magnus absentmindedly reaches across the couch for a teething ring, gently averting the focus of Max’s mouth. “Did you give him any solid food today?”

It takes Alec a moment to remember what the hell ‘today’ was. Lately, time just sort of… is. The concept of individual days is getting fuzzier and fuzzier. But he thinks back for what seems like a reasonable number of hours, and…

“No. Just formula.”

Magnus’s frown gets a little deeper. He’s clearly thinking a little harder. “I gave him carrots,” he says, with an odd finality. Like it’s the conclusion to whatever train of thought he’s been on.

Alec scoops the Chairman out of the hamper (again). “You think it’s food allergies?”

“I think that’s as likely as anything else,” Magnus says, with a little movement of his shoulders that might be a distracted attempt at a shrug. “It wouldn’t explain the reactions he had when we only gave him bottles. But now that he gets more variety…” he runs his thumb across Max’s arm, right below where the rash stops. He’s still thinking. He’s still thinking too hard. Alec can see it.

After maybe a minute or two of intense contemplation, Magnus shakes his head. “This…” he gives a small, flippant smile. “This might be ridiculous, but I think it might be… common. For warlocks.”

Alec’s face screws up in confusion. “What, allergies?”

Magnus hums lightly, obviously trying to communicate that he’s not totally convinced about what he’s saying. “I had bad reactions to something like a _dozen_ different foods when I was a child. I always assumed I forced myself through it, since I had to eat whatever I was given. But I wonder if-” he rubs Max’s arm again. “If I outgrew it.”

That’s…

That’s definitely new. Alec’s never heard anything about that before. It’s not entirely surprising - hell, it’s not surprising at _all,_ really. In over two years, Magnus has probably spent less than ten full minutes talking about his childhood. His early childhood, anyway. His time before the Silent Brothers. The only things he’s said about his life then have been… important. It’s not really surprising that ‘Did you know I used to be allergic to a bunch of shit?’ didn’t make the list.

Still, it’s a new piece of information. A new piece of Magnus’s history. Of his life. It doesn’t feel particularly deep or ground-breaking, but it’s something.

But that’s not the point. Right now, it’s the context that matters, not the content. So Alec shoves the hamper to one side, and does an awkward little knee-walk over to the foot of the couch, so he can get a better look at the current state of Max’s rash.

He sits back on his heels, and looks up at Magnus. “You sure that’s not just… a coincidence?” Two kids with food allergies hardly seems like a pattern.

Magnus shrugs. “It very well could be.” He takes Max’s unoccupied hand, wiggling his arm in a silly dance-like pattern. “Unless there’s a reason for it.” He glances down at Alec - and he must see the question on his face, because he goes on without being prompted. “Warlock immune systems are powerful. Over-zealously so, sometimes. We can fight off anything even _remotely_ harmful, and-” he smiles distractedly as Max gets a fist in his shirt again. “I wonder if young warlocks’ bodies can’t tell the difference yet. Between what’s actually harmful, and what’s just new.”

Huh. That… makes a surprising amount of sense. “So he’s just reacting badly to _everything,_ in case it’s dangerous,” Alec says, leaning in a little closer, putting a hand on Magnus’s knee.

Magnus raises his eyebrows, tilts his head. It looks flippant, but Alec can tell that he’s getting more invested, not less. “Children are more sensitive to bitter flavors. It could be a similar principle.”

Alec understands that this isn’t exactly an area of expertise for him (or even an area of basic comprehension, really), but it still feels… it still feels like some things are starting to fall into place. Finally. “That’s why medicines don’t work for him, right? They don’t work for warlocks?”

“Not in mundane-sized doses, no.” His head tips to one side. “And I suppose no one is eager to give an infant a whole bottle of tylenol just to see if it’ll do any good.”

Max tosses down his teething ring, giving _all_ of his attention back to Magnus’s shirt. Alec moves the ring a little closer - and gives it a brief once-over to check for cat hair - in case he gets nibbly again.

And he presses his lips together, pulling them between his teeth. Because this feels like it makes sense. This feels like they might be onto something. But there’s still… “But-” he stops himself before he can start, thinking through his words a little more carefully than the current jumble of half-formed thoughts trying to worm out of his mouth all at once. “But if this _is_ something that’s normal for warlocks, wouldn’t you… I mean, wouldn’t you know that? By now?”

“Well,” Magnus shrugs, like he was already thinking the same thing. “It’s not a conversation I’ve had before. I’ve never thought to tell anyone. And I’ve never spent any time with a warlock as young as Max.” He gently pulls Max’s hands away from his shirt, clapping them together to distract him. “Maybe it isn’t ‘normal’ for warlocks. Maybe it’s just a bit more likely.”

After a moment, his mouth twists up in a crooked little smile, and he bounces Max on his lap. “Or maybe this is all ridiculous,” he says in a goofy, sing-song voice, “and we’re just two perfectly ordinary people who coincidentally happened to have perfectly ordinary allergies.”

Max responds with a very enthusiastic string of gibberish.

Alec smiles. “At least if it _is_ the same thing you had, that means he should grow out of it, right?”

Magnus nods, hoisting Max up by the arms so he’s standing on Magnus’s thighs. Max hasn’t quite mastered ‘balance’ yet, so he falls forward a bit, putting his hands on Magnus’s face to support himself. “Possibly not for a long,” he takes Max’s hands away from his face, spreading his arms wide, “ _looooong_ time. But eventually, I think you’ll be perfectly fine with all of this, won’t you, Blueberry?”

“Of _course_ you will.” Alec lifts up a little higher on his knees. He puts his hands around Max’s sides, digging his fingers into his stomach just enough to make him squeal with laughter. “You’ll be fine with all of it! All the types of laundry detergent, and soap-”

“And fabrics,” Magnus chimes in, holding Max under the armpits so he can stomp around on Magnus’s legs. “And _diapers._ ”

“And then you’ll be able to sleep better, and you won’t have to cry all the time because you’re itchy!” Alec puts a bit more enthusiasm into his tickling. “Won’t that be nice, Max?”

Max’s laughter gets higher and louder and his stomping gets faster, and then a few sparks start crackling from his fingertips - which just makes him laugh harder.

His laughter proves to be contagious, because Magnus is definitely failing to hold back giggles as he lifts Max even higher, letting him kick and wiggle and flail against Alec’s tickling onslaught. “Yes, that’ll be so nice, because you’ll be happier-” he plants a _loud_ kiss on Max’s cheek, “so you’ll be _quieter,_ and it’ll be easier for all of us!”

Alec gasps dramatically (even though nothing is surprising). And he moves in closer, so he’s snuggled right up against Magnus’s legs, and Max is basically right in his face. “Yeah, won’t that be so good, Max?” He twists his head, presses his mouth as close to Max’s stomach as he can, and does his best to blow a raspberry. It doesn’t really work as well as he’d like with this damn clothing in the way, but it makes Max let out some particularly piercing laughter, so it’s effective enough.

“That’ll be so good, Max,” Alec says, with his face still smushed against his side. “It’ll be so good!”

 

 

Max is a year old.

And he is not being cooperative right now.

“I don’t think it’s going to happen, darling,” Magnus says. And his voice is that perfect blend of amusement and _smugness_ that just makes Alec’s stubbornness solidify that much more. “And I do have to get going-”

“Nuh-uh,” Alec snaps, pointing an admonishing finger at his phone’s camera. “You still have like, twelve minutes left before your next meeting. Don’t ditch me.”

On the little screen (propped up against Alec’s long-since-emptied coffee mug on the middle of the kitchen table), Magnus rolls his eyes playfully. “Since when do you know my schedule better than I do?”

Alec smiles. “That’s not relevant.” He carefully scoots his phone, trying to angle the camera to get Max better focused in the frame. “You can’t hang up yet. He’s gonna do it again.”

“Mmmm, of course he is.”

“He did it _right before_ you called!” Alec says, for what’s probably the hundredth time in the past ten minutes. He tilts his head down, leans a little closer, trying to make himself as enthusiastic and encouraging as possible. “Alright Max, say ‘Dada’.”

Max is sitting on the table in front of Alec, seemingly unaware of (or just uninterested in) both the image of Magnus on the phone in front of him, and whatever Alec’s doing behind him. He’s got both hands firmly around his sippy cup, but he currently cares a lot more about gnawing on the handles than he does about actually _drinking_ anything.

Alec gently nudges the cup out from between his teeth. “C’mon, buddy, you’re making me look bad. Say ‘Dada’!” He holds Max’s hands and moves them up and down on each syllable for emphasis. “Dada! Da-Da!”

Max knocks his sippy cup against his legs. “Da.”

Alec’s chest tightens, everything inside him freezing for a moment, as he waits… with his mouth open… nodding slowly in encouragement…

“Da. Da. Da.” Max says, more firmly each time, waving his arms up and down the same way Alec had done for him. “Da da da da dadada da.”

Alec slumps in his chair, all that tension draining out of him in the form of a heavy sigh. “That still counts,” he insists, albeit half-heartedly.

Magnus laughs, then makes a smug little noise into his thermos as he takes a long drink of what Alec assumes is his fourth or fifth gallon of coffee today (‘sleep’ has become something of a mythical concept in the loft these days, and they’re coping however they can). And then he smacks his lips, just to _really_ rub it in. “Now, darling, I know you’re jealous that he’s already saying ‘Papa’, but th-”

Alec interrupts with an inarticulate noise of objection, pointing at the camera again. “I maintain he thinks that’s how to say ‘please’. He’s just over-enthusiastic about the ‘puh’ part.”

“Either way,” Magnus says placatingly, folding his hands under his chin and looking much too pleased with himself, “you _must_ have known that he wouldn’t play along and actually say it when you called me. Just your luck, he’s only ever going to say it when there aren’t any witnesses.”

Alec doesn’t think he wants to dignify that with a laugh, but he can’t quite keep himself from chuckling a bit as he rolls his eyes. “I was optimistic.” He shrugs, and starts fiddling with the zipper on the back of Max’s pajamas (a necessary adjustment, made after too many nights waking up to find that he’d un-snapped himself, shimmied out of his clothes, and ripped off his diaper). “It’s pretty much all we’ve been doing today.”

Max bites at the lip of his sippy cup, making several happy gurgles, like he might _actually_ take a drink-

But then he tosses the cup down in his lap with a shriek, and starts reaching over the edge of the table.

And a moment later, the Chairman jumps up onto the empty chair next to them. It doesn’t look like he’s planning on actually getting up on the table, but he looks vaguely interested in whatever they’re doing up here.

And, _of course,_ as soon as he’s in sight, Max stops caring about literally everything else in the world. “Mauw!” he shouts, making frantic grabby hands in his direction. “Mauw, maaaaauw! Mauw!”

Magnus sighs heavily, Alec rolls his eyes, and they both pretend that they think it’s more annoying than adorable.

“Well.” Magnus rests his chin in one of his hands. “Of course, the one member of the household he can successfully name, and it’s the only one who doesn’t care.”

The Chairman still makes no effort to move himself any closer, but Max isn’t at all disheartened. He just keeps grabbing, and shouting, and laughing, and shouting some more.

Alec can tell that this distraction is permanent (until the Chairman decides to leave), so he officially gives up on Max’s portion of the conversation. In hindsight, it really isn’t at all surprising that he refused to say ‘Dada’ in front of an audience. Alec just _knows_ he’ll be saying it over and over and over and _over_ as soon as Magnus isn’t listening anymore. Because Magnus is right - Max is a little _shit_ about doing anything when they actually want him to.

Magnus must also be able to tell that Max is checked out, because he leans a little closer to the camera on his end, ignoring Max’s continued babbling. “So, apart from the language lessons, how’s the day been so far?”

Alec keeps one arm around Max’s side - in case he gets any ideas about scooting himself off of the table - and carefully maneuvers his phone-and-mug setup over a bit, so it’ll pick him up better. “The usual.” He shrugs. “I made some baby food from all the leftovers in the crisper.”

“Ooooh,” Magnus perks up - with noticeably more enthusiasm than can really be believed. “How’d that go?”

“I mean, you heat all the crap up, put it in the food processor, and hit ‘go’.” Alec raises an eyebrow. “It’s not like _making_ it was particularly difficult.” He puts his hand on Max’s stomach, squeezing just enough to tickle. “The real challenge was getting him to actually _eat_ it.”

“And did he?”

“Of course not.” Alec smiles. “And by then, I was too tired to make anything else, so my lunch today was three cups of vegetable mush.”

Magnus laughs, leaning back, resting his hands on his desk. “Sounds absolutely _delicious._ ”

Alec laughs with him. “Good, ‘cause that’s what we’re having for dinner, too.” He gives Max another squeeze-

Oh, fuck.

It looks like that wasn’t the right choice, because Max is _not_ having it. He goes from laughter and “Mauw”-ing to crocodile tears and flailing in what seems like less than a second.

“Ah, shi-” Alec cuts himself off before he can get all the way through the attempted swear word (he thought he’d be used to censorship by now, but in moments like this, it can still take a second to kick in).

He immediately runs through the usual checklist for sudden meltdowns like this: diaper’s fine, clothes aren’t caught or twisted, no snot or spit on his face, no sudden allergic reactions to anything, nothing weird in his mouth, and… nope, nothing unusual in the immediate area that looks like it could have been magically altered by accident.

Which… _great._

Which means this is just one of _those_ meltdowns. One of the ones where there isn’t a clear cause, so there isn’t a clear solution.

Max throws down his sippy cup. It skitters across the table and falls to the rug with a dull thud, which makes the Chairman leap after it in furious pursuit, which - of course - just makes Max cry harder and wetter and louder and-

Ah.

He hiccups.

Well, the good news is that the source of the meltdown is no longer a mystery.

The awful, _awful_ garbage shit news is that there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

Alec grumbles a bit under his breath as he scoops Max off of the table, getting him nestled in the setup that’s usually the most effective for getting him to calm down a little faster. But for now, it doesn’t do a damn thing to quiet him. He just keeps crying, loud and shouty, broken by tiny hiccups, which - while kinda adorable in their own right - make him scream louder each and every time.

“Okay, this is probably gonna last a while,” Alec says over the wailing. He glances down at his phone. “Won’t make for a very good conversation.”

Magnus sighs, but with a fond smile. “I suppose I should be preparing for this meeting, anyway.” The camera shakes and gets closer to him, like he’s picked up his phone. “Hope he doesn’t give you too much trouble.”

Alec rolls his eyes. “I mean, at some point he’ll just lose his voice, right?” He takes one hand away from Max to reach for his phone-

And Max’s crying goes up what must be at least a dozen decibel levels.

Okay, so this is a two-hand comfort situation. Looks like it’s Magnus’s job to hang up. “You’re home for dinner tonight, yeah?”

“Of course, darling. But it might be a bit later than usual, with that summoning. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Great.” Alec knows Max is about as upset as he can get at this point, so since he can’t really make things any _worse_ … He takes one of Max’s hands and waves it toward the camera (ignoring the continued wailing). “Bye, Papa! Love you!”

Magnus makes a sound that’s half laughter, half sympathetic coo. “Bye, boys.” He holds Alec’s gaze, takes a moment to really look at him, with that small smile of his. “Love you, too.”

The call ends.

And somehow, Max gets louder.

Great.

“It’s okay, buddy.” Alec falls easily into his usual rhythm of rocking back and forth, bouncing his hip, and patting Max’s back. His hiccups don’t usually last particularly long, but he still gets _incredibly_ unhappy about them, every single time. Alec thinks it’s even worse now than it had been the first time he’d gotten them.

And nothing calms him down. Even after the actual hiccups are gone, it’s like the emotional toll is so intense, it can leave him crying for _hours._ They have no idea if his hiccups are unusually painful, or if he’s upset about not understanding what’s happening and why, or if he really just hates them this much for no reason at all. But whatever it is, it hasn’t been getting any better throughout the months.

It’s not like Alec honestly expects a one-year-old to fully grasp spoken language or anything. He understands the whole ‘learning how to be a person’ concept. But times like this, all he can do is desperately fantasize about the eventual, far-off day when something will upset Max, and he’ll be able to _tell_ them exactly what the problem is, and they’ll be able to tell him how they can fix it.

By the Angel, he’s literally had _dreams_ about that.

Hell, even if it’s something they can’t fix (like the goddamn fucking hiccups), they’ll at least be able to say that they understand what’s going on. ‘Hey, I know hiccups suck, and I acknowledge that you’re upset. But I promise you’re not dying, so like… maybe you don’t need to scream so much?’ It’s not like it’ll fix everything, but for now, it’s the single most enticing concept in Alec’s entire future.

He doesn’t even need sentences. Just words. Just a couple of words. Enough words to identify basic problems. Enough to put an end to all the hours they’ve spent at Max’s crib, listening to him scream himself hoarse, with no goddamn clue what the fuck could possibly be wrong. Alec doesn’t even care if screaming is still involved, as long as Max can scream something related to the actual problem. Even just one word. That’d still be useful. Constructive screaming. It’d be great. It’d be amazing.

To be fair, he is technically _talking._ He says “meow”. He _did_ say “dada” a few times today, whether or not he wants to admit it. And yeah, he says “papa”, whether or not Alec wants to admit it. So it’s… it’s a start. It’s words. He can say words. He’s learning. It’ll happen. He’ll talk. Eventually.

It’s just a weird timeline. Alec sure as hell doesn’t know what timeline is  _normal,_ or if there even is a ‘normal’ from kid to kid. But for some reason, he had this really clear idea in his head that Max would be talking before he could walk. It may not have been a particularly _rational_ idea, but that doesn’t change how firmly it lodged itself in his dumb brain.

So it’s weird - it _seems_ weird, having this tiny baby who can only say two words (three, when Magnus isn’t listening), but who can successfully get into literally every goddamn nook and cranny of the apartment by himself. He may only be able to manage one or two steps at a time, but _by the Angel_ he is still capable of getting around. It feels like they’ve had to Max-proof and re-Max-proof and re-re-Max-proof the apartment every single day for the past month. It’s not fair that he can sneak out from under Alec’s nose before he’s physically capable of _telling_ Alec where he went. Alec looks at something else for two goddamn seconds, and then he has to spend the next hour frantically trying to chase down the vague baby noises to find the source.

And while Magnus is _positive_ that Max is still way too young to understand his magic well enough to poof himself around the apartment… these past few weeks alone with him have severely fucked with Alec’s certainty about that.

Then again, maybe it’s genuinely just that much harder to keep tabs on a baby when you’re doing it alone.

It’s not like Alec was never alone with Max before. In the six months when he and Magnus were both home full-time, there were still plenty of times when one of them dealt with Max alone. When there was a meeting Magnus couldn’t miss. When they needed to go shopping - and acknowledged that going together and bringing Max was a fucking _stupid_ way to invite unnecessary stress. When something happened at the Institute and Jace absolutely couldn’t handle it without Alec there to hold his hand.

They’ve both dealt with Max on their own. It’s not new. Alec’s done this before.

But only for a few hours. Only here and there. Always with the certainty that Magnus would be back in a handful of minutes, and he’d have help again. And now-

Magnus is still around. He’s still involved. Because _of course_ he is. It’s not like there was any chance he’d just go back to his old, pre-baby schedule - working every spare hour he could find, pulling all-nighters, taking a day off _maybe_ once a year, finding time to be generous with his social commitments on top of all of it.

There’s no goddamn way he’s going back to that any time soon. They both knew that, right from the start. This is… normal. It’s perfectly normal, reasonable work hours. It’s basically a regular nine-to-five, just sometimes shifted a few hours in one direction or the other. It’s an actual ‘workday’. He’s around in the morning, around to start the day, around for breakfast. And he’s home for dinner. Every single night. He calls between appointments. He comes home for lunch every now and then. He keeps his weekends as free as possible. It’s ordinary. It’s reasonable. It’s what they planned.

It’s exactly what they planned. From the start. From all the way back in Idris, in that dingy little attic. They’d talked about all of this. They’d planned for all of this.

And it was Alec’s idea - this part of it, anyway. They’d both cut back on work for as long as they needed. And eventually, Magnus would go back, and Alec would stay home. When Alec was ready.

And he is ready. It’s an adjustment; of course it is. It obviously is. But he was ready for it. He was the one who decided he could handle it, that he could handle Max on his own for the bulk of the day. He was the one who said it was time for Magnus to start working regularly again. He was the one who kept saying Magnus could be gone more, when they’d started trying this, when Magnus would take one job a week, and then two, and then five. He was the one who kept telling Magnus he could take more. Alec’s been in control of the changes. The timing of the changes. Because he’s ready. He knows he’s ready. He knew he was ready.

He’d thought so, anyway.

The shoulder of Alec’s shirt is basically soaked now. With Max’s tears, snot, whatever else he’s dripping out of every hole on his face.

It’s almost impressive, when Alec thinks about how long he can survive having a baby scream directly into his ear. It’s loud enough that there’s a constant, high-pitched ringing in the back of his head, but he’s still… fine. He’s still thinking more-or-less clearly. He doesn’t have a headache (yet). It’s not like Max’s crying has gotten quieter, or that Alec’s noise tolerance has strengthened that much. It’s just that he’s gotten better at having his eardrums assaulted while still going about his life. It’s not a particular skill he anticipated he’d earn. Really, he thinks he might prefer some permanent hearing loss at this point (though he’s not entirely convinced that there’s no serious damage being done), but this is still useful.

He keeps rocking back and forth. He keeps bouncing Max against his hip. He keeps patting Max’s back. And he keeps up a constant dialogue of the usual soothing chatter.

Oh.

He’s talking.

He didn’t realize he’s been talking. Has he been talking this whole time?

“It’s alright, buddy.” Max hiccups again. “They’ll go away soon. Shhhhh, it’s gonna be okay.”

How long has he been talking? What else has he been saying?

And when exactly did he become capable of maintaining a solid ‘conversation’ with Max, while simultaneously maintaining a completely different train of thought?

To some extent, he supposes that’s just a natural side effect of sharing an apartment with a tiny person who can _listen_ to him talking, but can’t actually participate in the conversation.

It makes for an interesting soundboard. Alec can say whatever the fuck he wants, and Max can only give some enthusiastic gibberish in return. It’s a little… freeing, really. Being able to talk honestly, to say exactly what he means, to someone who’s incapable of saying, ‘hey, that’s fucking stupid.’

Which is probably why Alec just… talks so much, now. All the time. When he doesn’t even have anything to say. Sometimes narrating whatever he’s doing, and sometimes keeping up a constant track of his own thoughts. He’s probably talked more in these past few weeks than he’d talked in the rest of his life combined. He even lost his voice for a few days, back at the start.

Now that he’s found an audience that can’t criticize him, he suddenly has a lot to say.

That’s the one thing that almost,  _almost_ makes him grateful that Max can’t talk yet. Alec’s admittedly a tiny bit terrified of the day that Max first tells him he sounds like an idiot. The first time Max tells him his jokes aren’t funny. The first day he has to actually _be_ funny, instead of saying nonsense in a silly voice and getting uproarious laughter in response. The first night he actually has to tell a coherent, sensical bedtime story (he’s still trying to perfect his telling of The Knight and The Magical Prince before Max can give feedback).

Sparks tumble down Alec’s back. Not hot enough to be painful, but certainly not cool enough to be comfortable, either. Max hits his fist against Alec’s shoulder, sending another tiny flurry of sparks.

And the sparks just upset him more, and keep him crying as hard and loud as possible.

Alright. On second thought, there’s _nothing_ worthwhile about Max not being able to talk yet. Alec would take _any_ amount of criticism about his bedtimes stories over _this._ This particular meltdown must be approaching the ten minute mark, and Alec’s well aware that that’s practically nothing to Max. He can go for hours.

“But you’ll calm down soon, won’t you?” Alec keeps his voice high. Soft. As cheerful as possible. He starts wandering in the direction of the nursery, in case Max tires himself out enough to lie down for a few minutes (by the Angel, _please_ ). “Yeah, those yucky hiccups’ll go away, and you’ll quiet down, and you’ll learn _all_ the words, and you won’t have to cry so much anymore.” He bounces Max with a bit more energy, trying to trick him into a better mood. “Yep, I know it, buddy.” Max lets out another shriek, and Alec nods. “I know.”

Any minute now. He’ll quiet down any minute now.

“It’s okay, bud. It’ll be okay.”

It’ll be great.

Any minute now.

 

 

Max is fifteen months old.

And it feels like he’s been sick for at least fourteen of them.

At least his crying is quieter when he’s sick.

But-

_Fuck._

By the _Angel,_ Alec feels like a fucking _asshole_ for considering that to be some sort of ‘positive’ tradeoff. Max is only quieter right now because he’s too _weak_ to cry like he usually does. All of the usual screaming and wailing and shrieking is just blubbering and sniffling and groaning. And that is not a positive. It’s not a goddamn perk. It’s not a good thing.

It’s _not_ a good thing.

Except…

Except it’s a damn struggle for Alec to keep himself from- not enjoying, _definitely_ not enjoying, but…

Appreciating. He appreciates the more reasonable volume. He does not enjoy that his kid is sick and miserable. He hates it. He definitely fucking hates it. But since he can’t do a damn thing to change it, he can at least have a neutral sense of appreciation for the relative quiet. He hasn’t had a Max-induced headache in _days._

But even though the crying is a lot quieter, it’s also a _lot_ more consistent.

Constant.

_Constant._

“Sorry, this must be annoying. I can… I can call back later,” Alec offers weakly, knowing damn well that ‘later’ could easily mean ‘next month’ in this case.

“It’s fine,” Maryse insists yet again. “I _have_ heard a baby crying before, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. Which is why I figured you don’t want to hear any more now. You’ve already done your time.”

“It’s my grandson, Alec. Believe me, I can handle it.”

Alec sighs - and switches his phone from one side of his face to the other in hopes that she won’t hear it. “I try to calm him down, but there’s no avoiding it when he’s sick. If I try to pick him up, he starts screaming. But if I try to leave the room, he loses his damn mind.”

Which is why Alec’s had to find this weird middle-ground, staying within sight-range, but staying out of touch-range. Sitting in the most comfortable chair in the nursery, next to the little rocking bassinet he’s bundled Max into (it’s basically his Illness Prison whenever he gets sick, since it’s so much easier to sanitize than his giant crib), using his foot to gently rock it back and forth at whatever intensity seems to make Max cry the least. They’ve been like this for hours.

Hours.

Max was fine this morning. Well, he was relatively fine. A little extra spit-up-y, a little rashy, a little warm. That was it. The fever didn’t flare up again until mid-morning. About an hour ago, some hives decided to show up too, because fuck everything, right?

Six hours, probably. Maybe seven. Alec is intentionally avoiding looking at the time, for the sake of his morale. Six-ish hours sitting in this chair, listening to Max cry, unable to help him, and unable to leave - unless he wants to turn the mild snuffling into tortured screaming.

“Seriously, I ran to the kitchen for _two seconds_ to grab some food, and it sounded like he was dying. I came back in the room, and he went _silent._ ” Alec twists himself in the chair, leaning against the arm and curling up as far into the back cushion as he can manage. “It’s like he’s doing it just to mess with me.”

Maryse makes a noise that sounds either fond, or smug - Alec really can’t tell with her. “Well then, it sounds like he takes after his father.”

Alec frowns, and it takes him a second or two to-

To realize that she means _him._

“Huh?”

She laughs (which makes Alec take the phone away from his ear for a moment so he can _really_ frown at it, with more umph, because what the fuck?). “You may have been an easy child to raise, but as a baby, you were a _nightmare._ ”

Alec tries to burrow himself a little further into the cushions. His face scrunches down. He feels oddly… defensive. She’s never said this before.

He was the good kid. They didn’t really play favorites, per se (until Jace came along), but they’ve always made it pretty damn clear that Alec was the easy one. The one they didn’t have to worry about. The one they didn’t have to discipline. The ideal child.

Well, for the first twenty-two years, anyway. The whole ‘has actually been gay the entire time’ thing knocked him down a few spots in the ranking.

But before then. As a kid. He was a good kid. That’s what they’ve always told him. And while they’ve never really been good enough parents for Alec to care much about their opinions, hearing this now is making him realize…

He was kinda proud of being the good kid.

So he’s more accusatory than he should be when he says, “Really? You’ve never told me that.”

And Maryse just laughs again. “You calmed down as a toddler, but those first couple of years were absolutely horrible. You were the neediest baby in the world.” She sighs - and Alec thinks he’s a little offended by how much it sounds like she’s _enjoying_ this. “When we first moved you out of our room, you would always wait until I was just about to fall asleep - because somehow, you always knew - and then you’d start _screaming_ at the top of your lungs. So I’d get up, go into your room… and the _moment_ you saw me lean over your crib, you’d smile, and laugh like the sweetest little angel.” She huffs, like it’s bringing up some residual frustration. “Every single night. For _months._ ”

Alec lets out a quiet, confused laugh. “Sounds like I was a jackass.”

“You were,” Maryse says emphatically (and it’s surprising enough that she doesn’t chastise him for cursing - the fact that she’s _agreeing_ with it is downright stunning). “And it wasn’t just that. Any time you thought you didn’t have my _absolute_ focus, you started wailing. You needed to be the center of attention every waking moment.”

Alec… doesn’t really know what to do with that.

“Huh.” It doesn’t sound right. It’s not like he had any control over what his personality was like as an infant, but still.

Maybe it worked too well. Maybe he demanded so much attention back then that he got sick of it, and that’s why he’s _never_ wanted it since. It’s the only way he can rationalize this new knowledge that he was actually a totally shitty kid. A horrible little baby. A-

Oh.

Oh shit.

Alec smiles.

Oh, _shit._

“So, you’re saying I was a difficult baby?” He lets his voice get twisted by the smirk on his face. “Kind of… a brat?” He can barely get the word out without laughing.

Maryse makes a sound that’s probably accompanied by rolling her eyes. “Yes, an absolute brat.”

Alec has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from breaking. “So you’re saying… Magnus was right, all along?”

She takes a breath, and there’s a few seconds of silence, like she’s trying to piece together what he said…

And she lets it out. Like a sigh, and a groan, and maybe a bit of a laugh? “I-” she breathes again, just as heavily. “I suppose… he was.” She chuckles a bit, but it sounds decidedly unenthusiastic. “Maybe that’s why I was so upset about it. I didn’t want to acknowledge that my baby was less-than-perfect, so I _definitely_ didn’t want anyone else acknowledging it.”

Alec’s face scrunches up, like one long, sustained wince, and he opens his mouth - because it’s a little uncomfortable to hear Maryse describe her actions in the Circle as her being ‘ _upset_ ’, like she was just personally angry with Magnus for insulting her kid instead of… what it really was.

But he closes his mouth, for now. Because he’s not really in the mood to have that conversation with her. Again.

Besides, she doesn’t give him much of a chance. She’s still in the middle of her own thing. “Did- did I ever tell you what happened, the next time I saw him?”

Alec raises his eyebrows. “No?” She most certainly did not.

And neither has Magnus. Apart from the whole ‘Repellant Brat’ incident, they’ve both seemed very eager to _not_ talk about their past encounters. Alec’s always assumed that Magnus didn’t have another full conversation with either Maryse or Robert until… maybe Idris? When Magnus and Alec announced all the baby stuff?

Maryse sighs again, but there’s something light in her tone. It might not be sincere, but she’s at least making an effort to sound pleasant. “It was a few years after the Uprising, when the Institute started making a point of hiring downworlders to look as progressive as possible. Magnus was here for a meeting, and I had Isabelle with me.” She laughs - and it only sounds a bit forced. “And he referred to her as ‘Goblin Number Two’. Which, I believe, implies that _you_ were goblin number one.”

Alec laughs. It’s quiet, mostly just for himself, not for her. But still, it’s a nice feeling. And it’s a _damn_ nice piece of information.

“C’mon, mom, you’re telling me this _now_ ?” He tips his head back. “I could have been giving Magnus shit about that for _years._ ”

Maryse scoffs, but her amusement sounds much more genuine now. “Well, if I remember any other insults he directed at you, I’ll be sure to tell you right away.”

There’s a bit more laughter, then a bit of quiet, like they’re both acknowledging that this is a pretty strange thing to be laughing about. That this is a pretty strange conversation to be having in the first place. That-

Huh.

That it’s pretty strange that they’re having a conversation. At all.

Alec calls Maryse often enough these days. He’s probably talked to her more in the past few months than he has since he was a kid, since… ever, maybe. But it’s always with a purpose. It’s with questions. It’s with baby stuff. It’s to ask if she has any secret remedies for diaper rash. It’s to ask if she remembers vaguely how long it takes molars to come in far enough for the constant screaming to stop. It’s to ask if there’s a way to get a plastic bead out of a nostril without having to go to the emergency room. It’s for information, because she’s a good resource. It’s not for conversation.

They say things to each other, but they don’t talk.

This is… talking.

Alec had called today to ask if there’s a humane way to force-feed a baby some pedialyte to make sure he doesn’t get dehydrated while he’s too sick to eat. And somehow… now they’re talking. They’re having a conversation.

It’s weird. It shouldn’t be weird, having a conversation with his own mother, but yeah. It’s really fucking weird. It all just… happened. Normally. Like a normal conversation. It happened too gradually and too _normally_ for Alec to realize how weird it is.

Until now, of course. Because there’s a pause.

And now it’s just so goddamn obvious that this isn’t normal for them. That they don’t do this.

He should hang up, right? Max is pretty much an endless supply of excuses to end a phone call, so Alec could definitely come up with-

“So,” Maryse says, in an uncomfortably presentational tone, “speaking of Magnus-” (By the Angel, has she ever said those words in that order before?) “It was your anniversary recently, wasn’t it?”

Alec’s stomach twists. Or drops. It does something it’s not supposed to.

It doesn’t sound sincere, really. It sounds like a… point. She’s saying it for a purpose, for an effect. ‘Recently’ gives her enough wiggle room that she doesn’t have to know the exact day. Or the vague day. And she doesn’t. Alec’s sure about that. But it’s a polite thing to ask, to bring up. She probably doesn’t want to know the answer, she just wants Alec to hear that she asked. She wants it to _seem_ like she cares, regardless of whether she actually does.

She may not want to put in actual effort yet, but she wants Alec to think she does.

It’s something. After all, she’s changing, not changed.

“Yeah,” Alec says, as soon as he can make his voice work. “Yeah, it was last Monday.”

“Did you do anything special?”

That twist happens again. Or the drop, or whatever it is. It’s stronger this time. More uncomfortable. Alec swallows back the sudden bad taste in his throat. “I mean, we took care of our kid. Didn’t have many other options.”

“You are aware that there are people in your life who would be willing to babysit for you? People who would be _eager_ to spend a few hours with Max?”

Alec screws his eyes shut. “He was really sick that night. We didn’t want to make someone else deal with him. He’s difficult when he’s that miserable.”

And there’s also the tiny matter of the fact that they’re really not comfortable with letting Maryse (or Robert, not that he’s offering) watch Max alone. They’ve spent time with him, obviously. But there’s too much…

There’s too much history. Alec’s not thrilled about letting them have too much influence on their baby downworlder, and Magnus still refuses to even consider it. But she doesn’t need to hear Alec say that. Hell, she’s probably figured it out on her own by now.

And besides, the other thing is still true. They don’t get babysitters. They just don’t. Max isn’t an easy kid to take care of, even for a few hours. He’s loud, he doesn’t sleep regularly, he has a new illness or allergy every day (or what feels like every _hour,_ on a bad day), his magic is getting stronger but not any more controlled… it’s not a good setup to throw anyone else into. Alec and Magnus have experience with him. They know how to handle all of the crappy stuff - to a certain extent. They don’t need to make anyone else try to handle him when even _they_ can’t manage it sometimes.

“We didn’t make a big deal out of it. But we still…” Alec shifts in the chair, “celebrated.” The word feels strange. It doesn’t fit right in his mouth. “We had a nice dinner.” Magnus had magicked up the whole thing for them, so they didn’t have to worry about cooking. They got through it in a couple of hours, with how many times they were interrupted by Max emergencies. But it was good food, and good wine, and good weather out on the balcony, and it was a good…

It was a good night.

Alec’s stomach twists again.

It was… an okay night.

It was okay.

It was good for a while. It was definitely good. Even with Max crying and the Chairman trying to steal their food and everything else, it was still good. For the first hour or so. They talked. They laughed.

And then they just, kinda… stopped.

They ran out of things to say.

They haven’t really talked much lately. There hasn’t been time. There hasn’t been an excuse (and isn’t that- isn’t it a little strange, that it feels like they need an excuse? An occasion? A _reason_ to talk to each other about anything other than Max?). Everything feels more _functional_ than it used to. Max isn’t a job, but somehow, it feels like Magnus and Alec are suddenly in a business partnership, more than a relationsh-

No.

No, that’s not right. It’s not like that. It’s not that bad.

They were tired. It had been a hard day with clients for Magnus, and a hard day with a sick baby for Alec. Just because there was some arbitrary, obligatory reason for that particular day to be extra special or _romantic,_ that doesn’t suddenly make the rest of their circumstances go away. If anything, the pressure just made it worse. That suffocating feeling that because it _happened_ to be their anniversary, they needed to have some sort of profound, life-changing evening.

It was just another Monday night. Like every other night they’ve ever had. One of hundreds. It wasn’t a good night for prolonged conversation, or being all mushy and romantic, or anything else. It wasn’t the right night.

And that’s got nothing to do with… all the other nights. Every other night that hasn’t been the right night, either. It’s just a string of extenuating circumstances. It’s not a pattern. It’s a series of isolated nights. A lot of coincidences.

“It was nice,” Alec says. Because he feels like he should. Because saying it out loud feels better than thinking… the rest of it. “It wasn’t a big deal, but it was nice.”

Maryse makes a little noise, a pleasant little placeholder, while she tries to come up with something else to say. “That’s three years now, isn’t it?”

Alec sinks a little further into the chair, and he makes his voice a little lighter to compensate. “Yeah. Three years.”

He doesn’t realize he’s forgotten to rock Max’s bassinet until it’s been long enough that the crying turns into sobbing. Alec moves his foot again, trying to find the right rhythm to make him quiet down a bit.

“How have things been going?” Maryse asks, her voice the tiniest bit strained by the forced politeness.

The twist in Alec’s stomach tightens. The bitter taste in his throat rises into his mouth. And something kicks in, in his brain, some sort of fight-or-flight panic response.

And he chooses flight.

“Mom, I- ah…” he puts a hand to his face, pinches the bridge of his nose. “I gotta go. Sorry. Max, um. He’s getting worse. I need to make sure everything’s okay.”

“Oh.” Maryse takes a breath, like she wants to say something, but she needs a moment to recover from the sudden shift. “Of course. You have your hands full.”

And now the panic in Alec’s chest is tainted with guilt. At the disappointment in her voice. At the way he’s backing out of this conversation. At what he’s already said. At what he’s already felt. What he’s feeling.

“Yeah. Sorry, I’ll-” he presses his lips together. “Thanks. For your advice.”

“It’s no trouble, Alec.” She pauses. “That’s what moms are for.”

The guilt gets stronger. It sinks into his stomach. And rises into his throat.

“Call me if you need anything else.”

“I will.”

He can hear it, in the silence, in the break in their dialogue. She’s preparing something. It’s in her mouth, ready to go. Alec doesn’t know what it is. If it’s incredulity, a question. If she can tell Alec is uncomfortable. If she’s going to say she loves him. If she knows. If she knows, somehow. That Alec doesn’t want to answer her. Doesn’t want to talk about Magnus. Doesn’t know how to talk about what’s been happening. That this is the first conversation he’s had with an adult and not a baby or a cat in… days. That he doesn’t know how to do that anymore. How to talk to people. How to have any semblance of a life outside of Max. That he can’t do this.

He can’t do this.

He can’t let her know this.

“I gotta go.” He takes the phone away from his face, and just barely gets out, “Thanks, mom,” before hanging up.

He lets his phone fall into his lap.

Max is still crying. Alec is still rocking the bassinet.

And his heart is pounding.

It was just a conversation. A normal, pointless conversation.

It’s because it was Maryse. That’s why it was weird. That’s why he was uncomfortable. All of that other stuff wasn’t…

He’s not used to talking with her. Especially not about how he’s doing. About Magnus.

He hasn’t been sleeping well, lately. More than usual, worse than usual. More than just the regular Max-caused sleeping problems. He hasn’t been able to fall asleep. And he hasn’t been eating well. He’s tired, and he’s running on microwave mac and cheese and Max’s leftovers, and he’s probably caught whatever illness Max has this week.

That’s it. That’s why he feels so… off. His kid is sick and _he_ might be getting sick and he’s tired and hungry and he was talking to someone he doesn’t usually talk to. That’s it. That’s all.

It’s got nothing do with that anniversary dinner. Where they ran out of things to say to each other. Nothing to do with the fact that they never seem to have anything to say to each other lately.

And it’s got nothing to do with the fact that Alec hasn’t talked to anyone _else_ in…too long. Because there’s no one to talk to. Just him, and a baby with a five-word vocabulary, and a cat. Alec doesn’t talk to anyone. He doesn’t see anyone.

Because there’s no one to see. No one to talk to. Jace and Izzy are at the Institute every minute of every day. And all this time alone with Max has made him realize… he just… doesn’t have anyone else. He doesn’t really have… friends. He’s spent too long with his siblings, and then too long with Magnus, and now too long with Max. He never bothered to know… anyone else. He has siblings, and he has work acquaintances he gets along with, and he has Magnus… but that’s it. He’s always had a stupidly small social circle. And it never seemed to matter before.

But now, he’s slowly been facing the fact that he doesn’t have anyone. Not right now. Not someone he can call on a weekday to talk to when he’s bored with Max. Not someone he feels comfortable inviting over when he knows Max will be screaming and crying and sick the whole time. Not someone he can talk to about Magnus, about what’s been happening (and not happening) with them in the past few weeks… or longer, maybe. Not someone…

Not anyone. It’s just him.

Just him.

All day. Even-

Even when Magnus gets home, sometimes. It still feels… lonely. Like there’s no difference, between when he’s there, and when he isn’t. Like-

No.

He’s tired. He hasn’t been eating well. He’s probably getting sick.

That’s it. That’s all.

His stomach twists. There’s a bad taste in his throat.

“It’s fine,” he says quietly. He curls up in the chair, as tightly as he can while still keeping his foot out to rock Max.

“Right, Max? It’s fine.”

He swallows. “It’s all fine.”

 

 

Max is eighteen months old.

Magnus is reading him a bedtime story.

At least, that’s what it sounds like. Alec is one-and-a-half rooms over, so he can’t really be sure. He’s in their closet, and the door to the bedroom is open, and Max’s crib is right on the other side of the bedroom wall, so he can still kinda hear something. He can hear Magnus’s voice, but only in the sense that he can tell he’s talking. He can’t make out the words. It’s muffled. It’s just the cadence that gives away what it is. Alec can tell that Magnus is using his range, changing his register, making different voices for the different characters. And every now and then, Max laughs.

Alec wonders what story it is. Magnus may pull out one of their many storybooks for a starting point and a set of pretty pictures for Max to look at, but he usually ends up giving the actual plot more than a few twists and turns and embellishments.

Magnus says something loud. High-pitched. Obviously silly, even though Alec doesn’t have a damn clue what it is.

And Max fucking loses it.

Alec smiles down at the dresser as he folds the last of his t-shirts and tucks it into the drawer. Max has such a fucking adorable laugh. It’s too deep, too powerful. It’s a belly laugh that sounds like it’s coming from an old man on helium, not a tiny child. His laugh is at least fifty years older than he is. Magnus always used to joke that Max was born with a laugh that had already reached physical maturity, and they’ll know he’s stopped aging when his body finally catches up to the sound of it.

Alec fishes the sweatpants out of the bottom of his hamper. They’re the last things that really need to be folded, and he wants to get that out of the way while he still has the motivation. These days, it feels like getting the clothes out of the dryer and into the hamper is an achievement. Actually getting them _folded_ and back where they belong in the closet is downright historic. He wants to be able to feel proud of the accomplishment of an empty hamper - for the two minutes it’ll last before he tosses in the clothes he’s wearing now.

These sweatpants go in the very bottom drawer on his side of the dresser. It’s the Old drawer. That’s how he always classifies it in his mind, anyway. All of his drawers are relatively well-organized, but this one is meticulous. A specific drawer, with specific places, for a few specific pieces of clothing.

Big, shapeless sweatpants, with drawstrings that are worn thin from being pulled too tight. T-shirts that are at least a full size too big for him. Threadbare boxers. One zip-up hoodie with holes in the cuffs of the sleeves. All of it various shades of gray, and black, and brown (that clearly used to be either gray or black before too many rounds in the washing machine).

There’s not much. Just one drawer, and it’s not even full. Alec doesn’t know why he still has it. Why he kept these particular pieces of clothing, out of everything.

It was a gradual process. It took a year or so to really phase out everything, to slowly add new things to his wardrobe until he eventually reached the point where he was _replacing_ his old wardrobe, not just adding to it.

All of the things in this drawer have been replaced. With clothing that’s comparable, but infinitely better. Sweatpants that actually fit him, in fabrics that are more durable _and_ more comfortable. T-shirts that are clean, and soft, and fitted, that he keeps around to wear under other things, or to wear when he works out, or to wear when he doesn’t feel like having Max spit up on his nice camisoles. Sweaters that actually keep him warm, that look pretty, that make him feel nice. Underwear that makes him feel nice. That makes him feel beautiful, without so much as having to glance at himself.

Everything in the Old drawer is obsolete. Because Alec has a different option, for everything in it. Every piece of plain, ugly clothing has a new counterpart. One that’s better. One that’s nice. He’s made sure that he never has to wear any of this grubby crap ever again.

So it’s…

So that’s probably why he feels so strange, as he puts the freshly-washed sweatpants back on top of the other pairs. Why it feels almost _wrong_ to see the empty space that’s reserved for the t-shirt he’s currently wearing. He doesn’t need to wear this stuff anymore. He’s not supposed to wear this shit anymore.

But he has been. For a few weeks.

Maybe a few months.

It’s not like he _only_ wears stuff from this drawer. He’s not gonna wander around the apartment all summer in sweatpants and hoodies, after all. He still wears his nice shorts and lace-trimmed tank tops and loose blouses when he wakes up in a direct beam of July sunshine. He still opts for a nice t-shirt over a shitty one more often than not. And he’s never gone back to boxers, never once, in all this time. Since that morning when Alec brought his first little bag of panties to the loft (to try on, and eventually - once he’d been coaxed and convinced - to show off), he’s never stepped into a pair of boxers again. He doesn’t compromise on that. He won’t.

It’s not all changed. Just some things, some of the time. Some shitty sweatpants, instead of his nice ones. Some gross old t-shirts, instead of pretty tank tops.

He’s just not in the mood for fancy clothes every day. With chasing after Max, and taking care of the loft, and knowing he’s not going to see anyone who’ll actually have an opinion about what he looks like, it’s not worth it. It’s not worth it to dress up every single day. It’s not worth it to shower every single day. It’s not worth it to shave every single day. It’s not worth it to wear makeup every single day.

Alec smooths down the little stack of folded sweatpants, and he runs a hand across his jaw.

He’s not sure how long it’s been since the last time it was ‘worth it’ to shave. But he knows he’s never let it go this long before. He’s never had actual facial hair before, beyond a couple of days’ worth of lazy stubble. It didn’t really surprise him when he stopped giving a fuck about shaving his pubic hair, or his legs. He has different priorities now, and silky smooth legs have dropped so far in importance that they’re not even on the list. But, his face…

Shaving anything _else_ was new. He’d only been doing it for a little while before they adopted Max - and Alec forfeited any extraneous time for personal grooming. So it was easy to go back. To stop shaving the places that he’d only barely started shaving in the first place.

He’s never stopped shaving his face. Because he’s never wanted to. He’s never considered it to be _optional._ He hates having hair on his face. He hates the messy look of shadow. He hates the scratch of stubble. This is the first time in his life he’s had the opportunity to form an opinion on having an actual beard, and unsurprisingly, he hates it. It’s itchy. It’s rough - even now that it’s grown out enough to be comparatively softer than stubble. It’s everything he’s always hated about his body hair, but so much more prominent. It’s right on his face. It’s unavoidable. He can always feel it. He _always_ feels it. It never fades into the background of his awareness. It’s like that moment of realizing that you can always see your nose, or feel your tongue in your mouth. It shouldn’t be something he’s aware of, but it is. It never goes away. He hates it. He hates it.

He hates it.

But for some reason, he can’t make himself pick up his razor. In the same way he can’t make himself pick out one of his nice camisoles to wear. It’s the same feeling. The same apathy.

No, it’s not that. He’s not apathetic about it. He cares about it. He cares that he has this hair on his face, that he’s wearing clothing that’s ugly and makes him feel like shit. He cares that he feels like shit.

He cares enough to hate what he’s doing.

He just doesn’t care enough to change it.

He runs a hand across his jaw. He wonders how long it’s been since he shaved. And he wonders how long it’s been since he wore makeup.

He’d stopped completely, at first. And so had Magnus. Priorities. But once Alec felt a bit more like he knew what he was doing with Max, once he had the occasional meeting at the Institute where people would actually see him, once he had so many hours a day with only a baby to keep him company, he started wearing it again. Because why not? What else was he going to do?

And then he… stopped, again.

But it’s been slow this time. A gradual fade. Before, when they first brought Max home, it had been a decision, in a way. It was that one moment, that one change in his life that made it stop all at once.

This wasn’t a decision. It was a lot of… not deciding. In the morning, not deciding to put on makeup. Not deciding to wear nice clothes. Not deciding to shave. Not deciding to devote that time and energy to himself. To looking nice. To feeling nice. It’s all the individual non-decisions. It feels normal, every morning. It feels understandable. It’s only when he looks back, takes stock of all the individual mornings that have added up to a string of mornings, that he realizes… how long it’s been. How many mornings. How many days.

He closes the Old drawer. He nudges the mostly-empty hamper away with his foot. He gives his section of the closet a quick look, making sure everything’s in order.

And he lets himself linger a little. On the clothes hanging at the far end. The ones that have been pushed further and further into the corner, every time Alec chooses to wear something else. The ones that haven’t been touched in longer than he can remember.

It’s… understandable. These clothes are so nice, they slip past the boundary from just ‘fancy’ to legitimately ‘formal’. He wouldn’t wear these without an occasion. And he hasn’t had one. On a regular day, it’d make no sense for him to wear one of his suits. Blouses that are delicate silk, even more delicate lace. Heels that he can _walk_ in just fine, but sure as fuck aren’t practical when he’s chasing down a kid. Or, at the very back, pressed against the wall…

Alec takes a step closer. So he can nudge the hanger away from the rest of the clothes. So he can feel the soft, ivory lace between his fingers. He lets his hand trail down the shape of the dress, pulling the skirt of it out a bit, so he can see it flare and sway when he lets go.

Nothing’s stopping him. He could put this on whenever the fuck he wants. He doesn’t _need_ an excuse to wear it. Just because he’s used to wearing it on important nights, romantic nights, with Magnus, that doesn’t mean it’s somehow off-limits on any other night. Any other day. There’s nothing stopping him from wearing this dress.

There’s nothing stopping him from wearing any of this. From shaving, from painting his nails, from putting on stockings and a nice dress and makeup and jewelry, from being pretty, for no particular reason. There’s nothing…

He swallows, and takes a little half-step back.

There is something. He’s sure of it.

He’s not sure what it _is,_ but he knows it’s there. There’s some impediment, some bit of logic, some perfectly understandable reason why he doesn’t do that anymore. There has to be.

There has to be, because if there isn’t, then that means… it’s just him. It’s his own fault. How shitty he feels lately, how ugly he looks. If there’s no reasonable explanation, then that means he’s allowing it. He’s letting himself do this.

And that can’t be possible.

So there’s a reason. There _is_ a reason. He just hasn’t figured out what it is. Maybe it’s time. Or energy. Practicality. Motivation. The fact that his days are spent taking care of Max, getting covered in Max’s messes, listening to Max cry and scream, losing sleep because Max doesn’t sleep, only seeing Max - who wouldn’t recognize the difference between a lace sundress and a garbage bag. It doesn’t make sense for Alec to care about his appearance right now. There are more important things. There’s no one to see it, or appreciate it. He hasn’t left the apartment in days. He hasn’t seen anyone in _weeks._ There’s no one to see that he hasn’t combed his hair, hasn’t shaved his face, hasn’t painted his nails, hasn’t worn any jewelry-

Well.

For the most part, anyway. There’s one exception.

Alec tucks his thumb in toward his finger. Runs it across the band of his ring. He doesn’t look down at it.

He tries not to look at it too much, these days. Because when he looks at it for too long, that… twisting comes back. The twist in his stomach. The tightness in his chest. He doesn’t have a name for that feeling. He hasn’t put it to words yet. But not because he can’t think of the words for it. Because he knows exactly what the words are, and he doesn’t want to admit them. Acknowledge them.

He runs his thumb across his engagement ring. Eyes still up, gaze still locked on an unimportant spot on the closet wall in front of him.

His chest tightens.

Discomfort. Uneasiness. Nervousness. Fear.

And then, like always, the moment those words try to creep into his mind-

Guilt. For thinking it. For feeling it. For… all of it. Guilt, rising from his stomach to his chest. Tugging at the back of his mind. And he doesn’t know why.

No, he does. But he doesn’t want to.

He has to take off his ring. Every day, usually several times. Whenever he showers, gives Max a bath, does the dishes, makes food that needs to be mixed with his hands. He slips the ring off of his finger, and sets it somewhere safe. Because it’s not worth it to wear it, not worth the risk of it falling down a drain, of the pearl being damaged or dirtied. He takes the ring off when he needs to, and then he puts it back on. Right away. Quickly.

Eventually.

And lately… it’s been…

It takes a few minutes. Never more than that, but still. It’s getting more difficult. Every time he takes off his engagement ring, it gets a little harder to put it back on.

Magnus says something loud, in a muffled, sing-song voice, and it makes Max laugh even louder.

Magnus hasn’t said anything to Alec tonight.

But…

That’s not _entirely_ true. They talked about groceries. Alec wanted to double check that Magnus put everything he needs on the list before he placed the order. They talked about Max’s dinner, talked about his reactions to lactose, and how that’s slowly seeming to get better. They talked about Magnus’s schedule tomorrow, because he’s working with a vampire and that means he needs to be gone later than usual. They… discussed. They made arrangements. Talked shop.

They didn’t say ‘hello’.

Because they don’t, these days. Alec doesn’t know when it started, or when he became aware of it. But he’s aware of it now. He knows that he has to be in the living room, when Magnus gets home in the evening. He has to be in view of the door.

If he isn’t, they don’t say hello to each other. Magnus settles in after work, Alec keeps doing whatever he’s been doing. Magnus always takes plenty of time to greet Max, to be excited to see him, to talk to him. But with Alec, they just… don’t. Unless Alec is right there when Magnus opens the door. Then Magnus will say hello, and ask how is day was, and Alec will answer. It’s… polite. And it’s clearly only happening because Alec happens to be there.

Some nights, Alec needs it. Because he hasn’t talked to anyone else all day (anyone who can talk back in complete sentences, anyway). And he needs to say something. Anything. He needs to talk to someone who can listen. He needs to hear Magnus’s voice.

And other nights, he can’t bring himself to do it. He can’t see the polite, meaningless smile on Magnus’s face. He can’t say things to Magnus that are empty. He can’t feel how much of a lie it is. How insincere. He can’t make small talk with his own fiance.

So it’s a choice Alec has to make now. A new daily task. Every evening. Every week day, and the odd weekend when Magnus takes extra jobs. Alec has to decide if he wants to go through that - to force the two of them through that little script - or if he wants to hide somewhere else in the loft, busy himself with something else. Wait for Magnus to come find Max, and then wait for the first piece of business that they _need_ to say to each other.

That’s what Alec had done tonight. Hidden. And he’d said his goodnight to Max while Magnus was finishing dinner. So he’d have the excuse of putting away the laundry while Magnus reads the bedtime story.

The sun is still up. It’ll be up for several more hours. And Alec knows that he and Magnus are already done talking to each other for the night.

Magnus will take a shower. Alec will clean up whatever messes Max made throughout the day. Magnus will do the dishes.

Alec will go to bed.

And a few hours later, Magnus will go to bed.

They won’t say anything to each other.

Alec presses his thumb against his ring until his finger aches.

He doesn’t remember when he stopped talking to Magnus. When he started feeling like he… couldn’t do it anymore. But it was… a while ago. It was too long ago. It was when Max was at his most difficult, he thinks. Or maybe, it wasn’t that Max was more difficult, it was just that Alec didn’t know how to deal with him as well. How to deal with being alone with him, all day. How to be alone. With a baby who won’t stop screaming, who won’t stop being sick, and with… nothing else. No one else. Alec didn’t…

Alec doesn’t know how to deal with it. With the isolation, and the monotony, and the sicknesses, and the _screaming._ He doesn’t know what to do.

And if he talks to Magnus, he’ll say that.

He’ll say all of it. He knows it. He won’t be able to help it. He can’t. He can’t do that. He can’t talk about this. He can’t talk to anyone about this, and he _especially_ can’t talk to Magnus about it.

Which means that he can’t talk to Magnus about anything.

He wishes there were more moments, more distinct changes and differences he could point to. He wants to be able to look back, and see a clear pattern. Cause and effect. ‘This particular incident happened on this particular day, and that made things worse.’ He wants to know when, and how, and why. It’d be so much easier, wouldn’t it? If he and Magnus had fought. If Magnus did something stupid, or rude, or cruel, and Alec got upset. If something bad happened with them, and _that_ led to this. If Alec could just look back, and have something to blame. Even if it was _his_ fault, there’d still be a reason. There needs to be a reason, he needs to have a _reason_ why he can’t talk to Magnus. Why this happened. Why it’s been weeks since he had a real conversation with his fiance. Why Magnus changed from the one person Alec could talk to about anything, to the one person Alec can’t talk to at all. Why it’s been weeks…

Months.

Why it’s been _months_ since the last time they said goodnight to each other. Fell asleep together. Woke up together.

Why Alec can’t even remember the last time they kissed.

At least with sex, he can remember. It was before Max. Because after Max, it didn’t seem possible. They were always busy, always exhausted, and _always_ guaranteed to prioritize sleep over anything else when they found time for themselves. And after that, when they started having the opportunity, when they _could_ do it, everything else got in the way. They’d try. Not often, and usually not with much intent. And before anything could go too far, Max would start screaming. Or they’d be so tired that their bodies wouldn’t cooperate. Or something else would stop them. Every time, something would stop them.

And eventually, they stopped trying. After enough interruptions, enough erections that wouldn’t stick around (if they showed up at all), enough embarrassments and apologies, it didn’t seem to be worth it.

And now…

Alec’s not sure if it’s nicer to know the last time, to know _exactly_ how long it’s been. Because he knows exactly how long it’s been since they last had sex, and he feels shitty about it. And he doesn’t know how long it’s been since they last kissed, and he feels shitty about that, too. He’s honestly not sure which is worse.

And it’s starting to affect… everything else. Because there are no specific moments. No problems, no fights or arguments or anything to signify that something is changing. That the next time anything happens will be the last time it happens. Which means that Alec never knows. He doesn’t feel the changes.

So all he can do is wonder. In another few months, when he’s standing in this spot again, thinking back again, what else will be gone? What will he be realizing that he can’t remember anymore? The last time they touched at all? The last time they spoke? The last time they saw each other? The last time Alec took off his engagement ring, and actually put it back on? Everything else has faded so gradually. Alec doesn’t know what’s going to be next. What he’s going to lose next.

His chest tightens again. There’s acid burning in his throat. And for now, he’s not sure if that’s heartburn, or if it’s going to keep going, keep crawling up, all the way out of him. It’s been getting difficult for him to recognize the difference between the warning signs for stress heartburn, and stress vomiting. Hell, sometimes he doesn’t realize the difference until he’s already kneeling over the toilet.

He touches his ring again.

Every now and then, when he sees Magnus, when they’re busy in the same room, both dealing with Max, Alec finds himself… looking. Looking at Magnus’s left hand.

Checking to see if his ring is still there.

The acid burns in his throat. An actual, burning sting of guilt.

Magnus’s ring is always there. And Alec always puts his back on, every time he has to take it off - even if it takes him longer than it should.

They still talk. It’s only about things that they _need_ to talk about, but still. They talk. They talk to each other. They say hello. If Alec is in the living room when Magnus gets home, they say hello to each other. They sleep together, in their bed, every night. They wear their engagement rings. It’s not everything. They haven’t stopped everything. Just some things. A few things.

And if they’re still losing things, if Alec is going to look back in a few weeks and realize they’ve lost something else, well. It’s not like he can tell it’s happening. He doesn’t have to be aware of that now. Not yet.

Still, it’s getting stranger. Harder, and stranger. Going about his own business in the loft. Hearing Magnus say goodnight to Max, close the door, turn on the baby monitor. Hearing Magnus shower. Cleaning up the living room, and watching Magnus go from the bathroom, to the closet, to the kitchen, to the library.

It’s still strange. Getting ready for bed, alone. Just the Chairman, already asleep at the foot of the bed, and the music from Max’s nightlight coming in quietly over the monitor.

Alec changes into his pajamas (another compromise - not from the Old drawer, but not anything particularly nice, either. Something plain. Plain pajama pants. A plain camisole. Nothing noteworthy. Nothing nice). He brushes his teeth. He ignores the sight of his tired, bare, unshaven face in the bathroom mirror. He plugs in his phone. He turns off the light.

And he gets into bed. Alone.

The door is open, and he can see a bit of light out in the loft. From the library. Alec may not be able to hear anything, but he knows that’s where Magnus is. Where he’ll probably be for a few more hours.

Alec turns over onto his stomach. Pulls the covers up to his head - even though it’s already too warm in here. And he tucks his face into his pillow.

He hasn’t been sleeping well. There’s not really an impressive list of things he _has_ been doing well lately, but sleeping is definitely one of the worst offenders. He can’t fall asleep with the acid in his chest, his throat, his mouth. He can’t fall asleep with the weight of his engagement ring on his finger. He can’t fall asleep with all of these things in his head, things he wants to forget, things he wants to say, things he wants to scream, things he wants to ignore. He can’t fall asleep when he knows Max is just going to wake him up in an hour anyway.

He can’t fall asleep alone.

He knew, when they first talked about it. When they first settled Max into that crib, in that attic. When they first decided they wanted this. Alec knew there would be-

‘Sacrifices’ sounds like such a _dramatic_ word, like he’s some sort of martyr. Compromises, maybe. Trade-offs. He may not have really _understood_ all of it yet, but he knew, on an intellectual level, that adopting a baby meant he’d be giving up so many other things. His job, his free time, his social life (however feeble it was to begin with), his ability to be selfish. He knew he’d have to give up pieces of his life that he cared about.

He didn’t know he’d have to give up Magnus.

But that’s not… that’s _not_ what’s happening. Not really. It can’t be. He can’t let it be.

It’s fine. They’re fine. This just… happens, to new parents. You don’t have as much time for each other, because there’s something more important. There’s always something else going on. It’s an adjustment. Just an adjustment. They’ll figure it out. They’ll… adjust. They just need some time.

It’s been a year. Since they adopted Max. A little over a year. That’s…

That’s not enough time. To get used to everything. To adjust. They still have more time. It’s fine. They’re okay.

They’re okay.

They’ll be okay. Eventually.

They’ll be okay, because they need to be okay. Because they can’t be this. Alec doesn’t think he can do this. Doesn’t know how much longer he can do this.

But they’ll be okay. They’ll figure it out.

They’ll be okay.

Alec presses his face further into the pillow. Pulls his limbs a little closer in to himself. Curls himself into the bed. Squeezes his eyes shut.

They’ll be okay.

He’s still awake when Magnus comes to bed.

Or maybe Magnus wakes him up when he comes to bed. Alec can’t really tell if he’s slept or not. But either way, when Magnus pulls back his side of the covers and settles in, Alec is awake.

He keeps his eyes closed. He pretends to be asleep.

He listens to Magnus. Shifting against the bedding. Tapping at his phone for a few minutes. Breathing. Putting his phone down. Sighing.

Alec keeps pretending to sleep.

He’s okay. They’re okay. They’ll be okay.

They’ll be okay.

They’ll be okay.

They’ll…

 

 

Max is twenty-one months old.

Which is one of those stupid distinctions that Alec always used to think was stupid, because it is. It’s stupid. How long do you need to keep being _that_ goddamn specific about your kid’s age?

So Alec makes sure he always justifies it in his own stupid brain. He’s not stating Max’s age like some sort of to-the-day baby-obsessed pride. When someone else asks how old Max is-

Or, more accurately, _if_ someone were to ask how old Max is (because who the fuck is Alec gonna talk to who doesn’t already know? Who the fuck is he going to _introduce_ to Max?), he’d say ‘almost two’. Or ‘over a year and a half’. He’s never going to _say_ that Max is twenty-one months old.

But, for him. For his own purposes. He knows no one else gives a crap about how many _months_ old Max is, but for Alec, he’s not just hearing the number. He’s keeping track. Feeling it. Feeling each of the months pass or slip or race or crawl by. Max is twenty-one months old, and Alec has been here for fifteen of them. Fifteen months. Hundreds of days.

And this might the first goddamn day that Max has actually _slept_ during naptime. Alec still puts him down at regular intervals, the same time every day, trying to get his schedule to smooth into something more structured. But Max usually spends those few ‘nap’ hours stomping around in his crib. Moving and babbling over the baby monitor. Shouting for Alec through what he no doubt perceives as his prison door. He never sleeps when he’s supposed to. He uses his naptime to rage against his confinement, then falls asleep face-first in a bowl of spaghetti at dinner a few hours later.

He still sleeps a decent amount. A healthy amount. Just never when Alec _wants_ him to.

So now, with his contented little snores coming through the monitor, Alec… doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s used to getting other shit done during naptime. Cleaning something. Getting food ready. Something that makes noise, since he knows it won’t make a damn bit of difference.

But now, he actually has to be quiet. Max’s sleep is so surprising that it feels inherently fragile, like _breathing_ too heavily would be loud enough to startle him awake and ruin this one successful nap.

So Alec’s not doing anything. Just in case.

He’s holed up in the bedroom, in the armchair he dragged in here a few weeks ago.

(Because he needed an option. The bedroom has been just a _bed_ room, for all this time. Nothing more. There are tables and chairs and couches and desks and _everything_ else out in the rest of the loft. So the bedroom has been reserved for sleeping. There’s never been anything else in here, because there’s never needed to be. But Alec needed… a space. Magnus has the library. Alec needed an option like that. A room, with a door to separate it from the rest of the loft. He doesn’t need it often, but still. An armchair, a footrest, and a little side table, in the corner of the room. Just for him.)

He’s tucked into the chair, his knees tucked up to his chest, his feet tucked into the seam of the cushions. He’s still boxers and a t-shirt, the same he’d worn to bed last night. He hasn’t felt like changing today. He hasn’t felt like doing much of anything today.

And he’s not sure if that’s at least partly because Max has been so easy today. Alec hasn’t had to do as much as usual. He hasn’t had to run around, listen to his sobbing, deal with his meltdowns. It’s been… calm, today. Quiet. Max has been content. Max has eaten everything Alec has put in front of him, without any fuss or bad reaction. Max has been… simple. Easily entertained. Happy. Happy to see Alec, and to not care about anything else beyond that.

And, _shit,_ it’s been nice.

But, also…

It means Alec hasn’t had much to do.

He could be doing things. There’s something to clean. Some shopping he could get done online. There’s _always_ something that needs to be done. But he doesn’t want to do any of the things he needs to do. He wants to do one of the things he _wants_ to do, since he doesn’t get that chance very often. And for the moment…

There’s nothing he wants to do.

There’s a list in his mind. The few things he likes doing in his free time. The few hobbies he’s scraped together since he started a life that allows him to have hobbies (which has been an interesting experience, trying to find hobbies as an adult, not having any left over from when he was younger - when he couldn’t fathom wasting his time on anything that wouldn’t directly benefit his work at the Institute). But right now, with the clear opportunity to indulge in one of those few activities, he doesn’t want any of it. It all feels so…

Old. Stale. Overdone. After all, there are only so many books he can read, so many shows he can binge, so many recipes he can try. He’s crocheted so many things (since he realized he can buy yarn on Amazon), in so many colors, with so many different patterns. Max has a tiny animal-eared hat for every day of the week. It’s gotten to the point where Alec can _feel_ his brain flatline at the mere sight of a crochet hook.

It’s all too monotonous. It feels constricting, even claustrophobic. Knowing there are only a handful of things that he can do for ‘fun’, only a few things he enjoys doing.

And if he _doesn’t_ want to do one of those things, there’s… nothing. There’s too much. He knows he has an infinite number of options, of new things he could try, new hobbies he could have. And just _knowing_ that is exhausting. Doing the same things feels stifling. Trying to do something new feels overwhelming. There are too few established hobbies, and _infinitely_ too many potential ones.

So he’s trapped. In this free time. This time for himself. He doesn’t know what to do for himself, anymore.

He doesn’t know what to do _with_ himself, anymore. He doesn’t know what to do by himself. He doesn’t know how to be alone.

And he’s always alone these days, isn’t he? In one way or another. Max sleeps, or gets engrossed by his toys or the books he pretends he knows how to read or the food he scatters all over the kitchen table. And even when he gives his full attention to Alec, that’s still not… not _really_ the same as spending time with someone. Alec can only say so many things to him, and Max can only give him a few sentence fragments in reply. It’s not a conversation. It may be socializing for Max, but for Alec, it’s not. Not at all.

And while socializing has never been one of Alec’s main things… it’s been so long.

It’s been so fucking long since Alec had a conversation with an adult. He’s started treasuring the two or three generic lines he gets to say to the people who make deliveries to the apartment. Crap about the weather, dumb little comments about whatever he ordered, wry acknowledgements of the sound of Max crying in the nursery.

There are still some exceptions. When Isabelle calls him because she’s afraid he’s becoming a hermit (which he supposes he is, but it’s not like he wants her to know that). When Jace stops by without bothering to ask if he can. When Magnus invites Catarina over for a drink on her rare nights off. It’s only a few people, and it’s only on rare occasions, but it still happens.

But… when he thinks about it… those times are actually worse, in a way. Worse than the constant solitude, the isolation. Worse than being alone with Max, or being home with Magnus and somehow still feeling like he’s still alone.

Because when Alec _does_ talk to someone from outside this apartment, someone other than Magnus or Max, someone who isn’t living in this, he has to lie. He has to pretend. He has to put on decent clothes, fix his hair, make sure he’s presentable. He has to be sociable. He has to have energy, be personable, be excited to see whoever’s there. And he has to-

He has to say that he’s alright.

He has to smile, and laugh, and talk about what’s been happening at the Institute lately, or who’s dating who these days, or whatever else is keeping everyone’s focus. Because he can’t talk about himself. He can’t talk about what he’s been doing, _how_ he’s been doing.

And when they ask - because they _always_ ask - he has to lie.

He gets extra cheerful. He talks about some new crochet project, offers something he baked, tells a story about something cute Max did recently, shows off some pictures. He always says he’s fine. He always says whatever’s good, whatever bits he can piece together into something positive. He always says Max is getting better, gets sick less often, tolerates more foods, cries less, sleeps more.

And yeah, that much is true. Max _is_ getting better. But as a statement about Alec’s life, it’s incomplete. It’s so carefully cherry-picked. It’s crafted.

It’s rehearsed. Alec keeps the talking points in his mind, ready to go for when someone calls or stops by or otherwise surprises him with interaction. He keeps the good things prepared, repeats them to himself throughout the day, just in case.

Because if he’s not ready, if he’s not prepared with the things he _can_ say, he’s afraid he’ll say something else. He’ll say the truth.

And it’s exhausting. Keeping himself so contained, so rehearsed. Trying to talk to people he loves, people he should love talking to, on a _script._ Terrified that he might actually tell the people who care about him that he’s-

Even the superficial side of it is difficult. Just as difficult, if not more. Having to scramble into the shower, to half-assedly run an electric razor over his face, to put together a passable outfit. Worrying if it’s enough. If he can lower his level of dishevelment to something that’s believable for a stay-at-home dad, or if they’ll be suspicious that it’s… more.

It’s _exhausting._ He inevitably spends the whole time desperately waiting for them to leave. Waiting for the moment when he’s free again. When he can stop pretending.

When he and Magnus can stop pretending.  

The insincerity is worse. Alec knows that for certain now. Because he’s gotten used to the silence. He’s used to them ignoring each other unless they have no other choice. So going back to polite small talk, to fake smiles, to interactions that are so painfully for the benefit of whoever else is there to see them… It’s awful.

And that’s it. Those are his only options, these days. He can be miserable by himself. Alone, whether or not Magnus is there with him. Or he can have someone else there, someone he can talk to… and he can be miserable with them. While having to pretend that he’s happy.

Apathy, or exhaustion. Those are his choices. Those are all he has.

He’s not sure which one he prefers, anymore. Probably whichever one he’s not currently dealing with. It’s hypocrisy, and he’s perfectly aware of that. But he’s been in a very ‘grass is always greener’ mindset these days. Whatever he’s _not_ doing is always better, is always a better prospect, is always going to be what finally brings him some relief.

And then he does that different thing, and it all flips again. It’s like there’s a goal, always somewhere vaguely ahead of him. There’s always a change he can look forward to - a change of circumstance, of company, of clothes, of day, of week, of _anything_ \- and that’ll be it. That’ll be what makes him feel better. It’s like a target. But when he finally reaches the place where the goal was, it’s moved. It’s a little further into the distance. A little further out of reach. Always out of reach.

‘It’ll be easier when Magnus gets home tonight.’ But being with Magnus is so much harder than being alone. ‘It’ll be easier when I’ve had something to eat.’ But the acid in his throat and the twisting in his stomach make it clear that he’ll only make it an hour or two before he throws it all back up, and eating anything these days is just a waste of food. ‘It’ll be easier when Max sleeps more.’ But he does sleep more, and it just means Alec is even more alone than usual. ‘It’ll be easier when Max can talk more.’ But Max can say handfuls of words now. ‘It’ll be easier when Max doesn’t get sick so much.’ But Max hasn’t so much as sneezed in weeks. ‘It’ll be easier when Max…’ It’ll be easier, easier, _easier,_ when Max-

Alec swallows. His throat is tight. His chest is burning. His stomach is unsettled.

It was supposed to get better, when Max got better.

That’s been the clearest goal, the thing Alec’s looked forward to with the most certainty. All these days he’s been driven almost out of his mind by Max’s screams, all these nights he’s been unable to sleep because of the stress headache throbbing behind his closed eyes. It’s been what he’s held onto. That it’d get better, when Max grew up a bit, got easier to deal with. When he stopped crying, started talking, stopped getting rashes and hives from _anything_ that touched his skin.

It was going to fix everything. Alec would be able to sleep again, eat without feeling nauseous, without throwing up. He’d be able to talk to people again, because he wouldn’t have to lie anymore. He’d feel better, he’d do things that made him happy, he’d shave, he’d get a haircut, he’d feel pretty again. So he’d be able to talk, have people over. Be with people again. He’d be able to talk to Magnus again. Because he wouldn’t be hiding anything. There wouldn’t be anything to hide in the first place. He wouldn’t be afraid of telling Magnus how horrible things are because things wouldn’t _be_ horrible. He’d talk to Magnus, and tell him the truth about how his day was, and tell him the truth about how Max was, and Magnus would smile and Alec would kiss him and laugh with him and make love to him and it’d be normal again. They’d be normal again, like they were.

It’d all happen, as soon as Max became easier to deal with. Alec’s been so sure of that. He’s been clinging to it. That there was a solution to this. That there was something that could fix it.

Max is easier to deal with. Max sleeps through the night. Max knows enough words to vaguely identify what he wants, what he doesn’t want, what’s bothering him. Max’s allergies are slowly narrowing down to a few specific, avoidable things. Max is happy, more often than not. Max laughs when Alec opens his door first thing in the morning, laughs, and shouts “Daddy! Daddy up!” when he sees him. Max still has problems, Max still causes innumerable problems and headaches and disasters, but he’s gotten so much better than he was a year ago. Half a year ago. A few months ago.

Max has gotten better.

And it hasn’t fixed anything.

Alec blinks too many times. He tilts his head, leans it against the back of the chair. His hand is a bit unsteady, so he puts it on the back of his head, rests his elbow on his knee, busies his fingers with scratching at his scalp so they can’t start trembling.

There was a goal, here. Right where he’s sitting, right in this moment. Max is sleeping peacefully, having a perfectly nice afternoon nap after a perfectly nice morning. Alec has a few hours of time he can take for himself, while Max sleeps. Alec has time to shower, shave, put on makeup, do his nails, call Magnus to ask how his day’s going, text Jace to ask if he wants to come hang out after they put Max to bed for the night, ask Isabelle if she wouldn’t mind babysitting sometime this week so Alec and Magnus can have a night to themselves. All of that is possible now. He’s reached that place, that pleasant afternoon with a pleasant little baby pleasantly sleeping in the next room. This is the goal. He’s reached it.

And he’s sitting in this chair.

It feels so empty. He can feel the space, the emptiness where something good was supposed to be. He can _feel_ that this was where the solution was supposed to be, and it isn’t here. It’s that shifting again, that moment he’s experienced so many times, where he realizes that his target has moved out from under him again.

Except, before, the target always moved a little further in front of him. Out of reach.

Now, it’s just… gone. He reached the solution, and instead of actually _getting_ it, it disappeared.

He’s sitting in this chair, ignoring the taste of bile in his throat, ignoring the blurriness at the bottom of his vision. And there’s no answer, anymore. No solution. No fix. No better time, waiting in the future, that he’ll eventually reach.

He doesn’t feel like acknowledging the stinging in his eyes, so he closes them.

This was his idea.

That’s the thing he can’t get past. The thing that’s been tugging at his mind and pushing on his chest and trying to keep him from breathing. This had been _his_ idea in the first place. He’d made his decision the _instant_ he took Max from Magnus, gotten him nestled in his arms, looked at his face for the first time. There wasn’t a single doubt in his mind. He was still realistic - that’s what he likes to tell himself in hindsight, anyway - he still knew there would be discussions and compromises and difficulties. But he knew he didn’t care. Max was going home with them, Max was going to be their son, and that was the end of it.

Magnus had questions. Magnus started the conversations. Magnus brought up practicalities and hypotheticals and made them both stop for a minute to _think._

And Alec had pushed him. Yeah, Magnus wanted it, just as much as Alec. Alec didn’t have to _convince_ him of anything. It was an agreement. Something they both knew they wanted. But Magnus had tried to slow things down. To a more reasonable pace. To talk about the millions of important details _before_ they made the decision. And Alec had kept pushing. Saying they could figure it out later, that there weren’t any possible complications that could make him change his mind anyway, so why did it matter? Alec knew he wanted this, Alec knew that he’s _always_ wanted this.

And now, Alec’s the one who can’t handle it.

Alec told Magnus he could take more jobs. Alec told Magnus he could go back to work earlier than they’d planned. Alec told Magnus he could take care of Max on his own. Alec told Magnus he knew what he was doing. Alec told Magnus that Max isn’t any more difficult than any other kid. Alec told Magnus that Max isn’t a difficult kid at all. Alec told Magnus he wanted Max. Alec told Magnus he _needed_ to have Max, that it wasn’t an option, that raising Max is the life that he’s wanted.

It’s Alec’s fault. It doesn’t matter that Magnus wanted Max as much as Alec did, that Magnus loves Max as much as Alec does. It doesn’t matter that Magnus might have pushed just as hard as Alec did, if he’d been given the chance. It doesn’t matter, because regardless of what else _could_ have happened, what _did_ happen was Alec insisting, over and over, that he wanted this.

He was the one who wanted this. He’s the one who’s always known he wanted this. He’s the one who thought he was ready.

He grips the hair at the back of his head. It’s too long, longer than he usually keeps it. But it makes for a decent counterpoint, right now. Tugging his hair. Feeling the ache in his head. It makes it easier to ignore the tears that start slipping down his face, no matter how hard he tries to blink them back, to will them away.

Everything had been so good. He hadn’t been _missing_ anything. He’d been running the Institute, living with Magnus, trying to pretend that he wasn’t running through proposals in his mind, trying to pretend that he scrolled through jewelry shop websites for himself, not to look at engagement rings. It was good. There wasn’t anything about it that wasn’t good.

And Alec’s ruined it. All of it. He’s ruined everything.

He loves Max; it’s not that. That’s not ‘ruined’. He loves Max more than anything else in the world. It’s a cliche, it’s such an _awful_ cliche, but he loves Max more than he thought he was capable of loving. He loves the way Max follows Chairman Meow around the apartment, meowing, copying all his movements, sprawling out in patches of sunlight and batting at the baby gates. He loves Max’s inability to say the letter ‘S’, and his inexplicable decision to put the letter ‘K’ in its place (‘peek’ instead of ‘please’, ‘thirk’ for ‘thirsty’, ‘Icky’ for ‘Izzy’, unfortunately). He loves that they’ve been letting Max’s hair grow out a bit more, and his face-to-afro ratio is becoming _unreasonably_ adorable. He loves Max, even when he’s difficult. He loves Max, even when he hates him.

It’s everything else. Everything that isn’t Max. It’s Magnus. It’s Alec’s stomach, his chest, his head, the panic attack that never seems to really go away anymore. It’s the hair on his face, on his body. It’s how much he hates it. How much he hates… all of it.

He hates feeling like this. He hates getting sick at the sight of food, just out of some perverse sense memory that knows he’ll eventually throw it up. He hates feeling ugly, knowing he looks ugly. He hates whatever the fuck has happened to his body, between the months where he didn’t have the time or energy to work out, and now, when he doesn’t have the capacity to eat more than what he absolutely needs to. He hates being unable to leave the apartment, with a little warlock who can’t be seen unglamoured at a park, who can’t go on a half-hour shopping trip shielded in a stroller without screaming so loudly that Alec gets attention and glares and judgement that he doesn’t know how to handle. He hates being alone. He hates how he feels when he isn’t alone. He hates lying to everyone. He hates what’s happened with Magnus. He hates that he can’t take care of his own goddamn kid without becoming… this.

He hates that he’s this.

He should have been able to handle this. None of this should have happened. He’s always wanted this, he should have been able to _handle_ it.

He lets go of his hair, because he needs to press his hand to his mouth. There’s snot on his lips, tears getting caught in the hair on his chin. But he needs to keep himself quiet. Max is still asleep. Alec can’t risk waking him up.

Alec used to have dreams that all of this was fixed, somehow - the dreams never specified. But everything would be fine. With no explanation, everything was fine. He was happy, and pretty, and Magnus would kiss him awake in the mornings and Max would be perfect and none of this had ever happened.

Those dreams shifted, after a while. Interspersed with dreams where the… _solution_ was a bit more specific. He’d go to bed, alone, knowing that Magnus would do the same, later. And he’d dream that Magnus wouldn’t sneak onto his half of the mattress, that he’d get into bed on Alec’s side, that he’d press against Alec, press against him and into him and it would be enough to negate everything else. They wouldn’t say anything. They wouldn’t _fix_ anything. But they’d have sex that was too smooth and perfect and impossibly satisfying to be real. And it was worth it, until Alec woke up. Cold, unsatisfied. Either alone, or with Magnus sleeping out of his reach, facing away from him.

And now, the dreams have started shifting again. Now, they fight. Over dinner, over Max’s crib, in places so vague Alec can’t identify them when he wakes up. He dreams that they shout, scream at each other in ways that are so unlike them that it’s implausible enough to make Alec aware that he’s dreaming. Magnus yells at Alec for letting things get this bad, for keeping all of this to himself and refusing to _do_ anything about it. Alec yells at Magnus for not doing more to help him, when it’s so obvious that Alec’s not hiding this well enough. It’s so obvious that they _both_ know something is wrong, and Alec screams that Magnus is ignoring it, that he can _see_ Alec struggling, and he doesn’t do a damn thing about it. Sometimes, it’s more banal than that. Magnus yells at Alec for using the wrong detergent for Max’s laundry. Alec yells at Magnus for not having the dishes done before morning. But whatever it is, it’s loud, and it’s impossible to ignore, and…

And it _does_ something. It starts something. It’s awful, and degrading, and unbearable, but it’s _something._ It makes them acknowledge… all of this. It makes them finally acknowledge this thing that’s become the elephant in the room - even if it’s only because the elephant is trampling them to death.

Somehow, it’s those dreams that are the hardest to wake up from. When one of them says something too horrible, or moves too aggressively, raises their hand, does something that’s so impossible to believe that it shocks Alec into waking up…

Alec isn’t relieved when he wakes up from those dreams anymore. Because that means it still hasn’t started. Nothing’s changed. They’re still…

Max has been asleep for over an hour. Knowing him, he won’t sleep much longer.

Alec takes his hand away from his mouth when it becomes too difficult to breathe. He pulls his knees a little closer to his chest, and presses his face against them. It should be enough to muffle the sound.

Max will wake up any minute. Alec will need to check on him. Even if he doesn’t wake up soon, Alec should still check on him.

He tries to breathe a little deeper, tries to swallow. His throat is too tight. It’s sore. His throat hurts from keeping himself quiet and his nose hurts from sniffling too much and his lungs hurt from not being able to breathe and his head hurts-

By the Angel, his head hurts. There’s pressure building behind his eyes, squeezing his temples. He can feel his heartbeat throbbing in his skull.

He can’t do this all day. There’s shit he needs to do.

He tries to swallow again. It doesn’t time well with his unsteady breathing, and he chokes a bit.

He can’t do this. He needs to stop.

He coughs. His nose is so stuffed up that he can’t snuffle it clear. He can’t breathe through his nose, and he can’t breathe through his mouth because his throat is too tight, because opening his mouth lets out _horrible_ noises, things he refuses to hear.

What good is this doing? What good could this possibly do?

He’s already fucking ruined everything. And now he’s really gonna sit here and cry about? About the disaster that _he_ made, the way he’s let his life fall apart? He’s already stood back and watched it happen, never even trying to stop it. What right does he have to do this now? To sit here and sob about things that are his own fault?

He tries to breathe.

His shoulders shake. His breath sounds like hiccups. His face is dripping so much that it’s sliding down his legs, reaching all the way to the hem of his boxers.

Max will wake up soon. Alec needs to start getting dinner ready. There’s a load of laundry in the washer that’s been sitting since breakfast. Magnus will be home soon-

Magnus will be home soon. He’s not working late tonight.

Alright. This has to end.

Alec lifts the bottom of his t-shirt, tugging it up to his face, scrubbing roughly at his eyes, his cheeks, his beard. He blows his nose. He moves to a different patch of shirt, and blows his nose again. He keeps scrubbing, keeps wiping, keeps rubbing the shirt across his face however he needs to, until the dripping stops.

His throat is still tight. His nose is still plugged. His head still aches, in multiple places. He’s exhausted.

But he’s done.

And that’s the hard part, the worst of it. He knows how to do the rest.

It’s odd. He doesn’t feel like this happens very often. That he indulges himself, lets himself completely fall apart like this. It feels like it should be rare. Unusual.

But he knows _exactly_ what to do, how to move past it. Like he’s practiced. Like it’s something he’s done a hundred times.

It’s like a performance. Rehearsed enough times that he goes through the steps without so much as flinching. He doesn’t even have to think about it. 

He forces himself to drink a glass of water, forces himself through every last drop, despite how much his stomach protests. He wants to shower - he knows he _should_ shower - but he can’t risk waking up Max. So he just washes his face instead, scrubs it with cold water from the sink, lets it get into his hair. He dries off. He puts lotion on his face, rubs it in until his skin doesn’t feel cracked and raw anymore, until he can breathe clearly, until his face looks even, not splotchy or drained.

He gets dressed. Changes from boxers to panties, puts on a passable pair of jeans, a t-shirt that’s clean - not soaked with snot and sweat and tears.

He checks the mirror.

It’s decent. He’s… decent. He looks fine.

He makes himself drink another glass of water. His throat has relaxed. He’s breathing normally. He feels… awake. He looks fine. He’s fine.

He’s fine.

So he checks on Max. He sees what’s left in the fridge, decides what he should make for dinner.

He’s in the living room when Magnus comes home. He’s in view when Magnus opens the door.

Alec can see the moment, the one where Magnus looks for him, checks to see if he’s there. Checks to see if this is going to be part of their evening.

Magnus sees him, and he does something with his mouth. Something polite, something meaningless. “Hello.”

Alec reaches for the legos that are scattered across the couch. Busies himself with trying to gather them into a neater pile. “Hey.”

There’s a few seconds of silence. It’s thick, heavy with the performance, the insincerity of what they’re doing. The awareness.

Magnus takes off his coat. “How was your day?”

Alec takes a breath.

He looks up at Magnus, and smiles brightly. “It was great.”

 

 

Max is almost two years old.

And he’s with Catarina right now. Right outside the door, somewhere in the rest of the apartment. Alec can’t be sure of where, because Magnus was so goddamn thorough that he’d even made it so no _sound_ will be able to get into the bathroom. So even if Max starts crying, or shouting, or screaming, they won’t be able to hear it.

And that’s fine, because if Catarina needs them, she can come get them. It’s fine.

Everything’s fine.

Alec is fine, sitting in the chair that they’ve moved into the bathroom, with Magnus standing at the counter next to him, and without Max.

Alec is fine, letting someone else take care of Max for a few minutes (or a few hours? He really doesn’t know how long all of this is supposed to take).

Alec is fine, letting someone else deal with Max’s meltdowns, with how difficult he can be, with how difficult the _easy_ parts of taking care of a toddler are, with the messes and the running around and the random bursts of magic and the food getting everywhere and the crying and the screaming-

“We don’t-” the words are out of Alec’s mouth before he has time to pick them, with no idea how to finish the sentence he’s started. “Um, we don’t need to… make Cat do this. Watch him. We should let her leave.”

“Catarina is perfectly capable of taking care of a baby,” Magnus says calmly.

“But she doesn’t _need_ to. She has better stuff she could be doing with her time off.”

“She _offered_. She’s not his godmother for nothing. She does actually _like_ spending time with him.” Magnus fusses with a few things on the counter. “Besides, if she’s going to be babysitting all night, she might as well get used to it now.” He sets a little washcloth on Alec’s shoulder. “And so should you.”

Shit.

It’s a good point. If Alec can’t handle sitting one room away from Max for five minutes, he sure as fuck won’t be able to handle leaving the apartment for the night. At this rate, he won’t even be able to make it to the hotel before he has to bail. He might not even make it from the apartment to the street.

There’s that piece of his brain, that fucking _siren_ that’s blaring at him, that can just _tell_ that Max is being difficult right now, that Catarina is getting frustrated, that she’d rather be doing something else, that she thinks Alec should be taking care of his own kid, taking responsibility, not pawning him off so someone else has to struggle with him for the night.

“But she shouldn’t have t-”

“ _Alec_.” Magnus puts his hand on Alec’s shoulder, holds it a little too tightly. Between that, and the look on his face, he’s… too firm. Almost stern. And he doesn’t let up, or look away. “Let someone else do this.”

Alec’s instinct is to avert his gaze, look at his hands in his lap, look up at the ceiling. But he doesn’t.

Because he’s not sure how long it’s been since Magnus looked at him like this. Really held his gaze, with seriousness, with a purpose. Even yesterday, even last night, even this morning, with everything… coming out, the way it did. Even with all the talking and the silence and the rest of it, they didn’t… look at each other. Not like this.

This is still new. This is still something they’ll have to… get back. Get used to again. Yesterday, it was talking. Or maybe it was honesty? It was something. They’d gotten _something_ back. And it looks like today, it’ll be… looks. Looking at each other again.

Magnus’s eyes are glamoured. They’ve been glamoured a lot, lately. Several months. At least, they have been when Alec’s seen him. Recently, he’s found himself missing the sight of Magnus’s real eyes, getting to see his mark.

But now, he’s realizing that he’s missed Magnus’s glamoured eyes just as much.

Alec doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know if Magnus wants an answer in the first place. So he just nods.

Because he can do this. He can let this happen.

Magnus’s expression softens. It’s not a smile, but it’s still… nice.

He turns toward the counter again, turns far enough that Alec can’t see what he’s doing. “Good.” His voice is a little lighter. A little more familiar. “Because it certainly wouldn’t make any sense for you to change your mind _now._ ”

Alec feels his mouth twitch up, like he wants to smile. And even that tiny movement is still enough to make him feel the added presence of all the goddamn shaving cream on his face. By the Angel, it feels like a fucking _ridiculous_ amount of shaving cream. There’s no fucking way that this is a rational amount. After what must have been the third or fourth or maybe _fifth_ layer, Alec was seriously tempted to ask Magnus if he was kidding.

But this is… different, to an extent. A different process, probably with different requirements. And Alec isn’t the one who knows what he’s doing. So he’s letting it happen. Sitting. In a chair in the bathroom. With his head pillowed on the counter. And with what’s gotta be at least a full can’s worth of shaving cream slathered onto his face.

It’s ridiculous. It’s fucking ridiculous.

Alec would laugh - if he weren’t genuinely worried that it might send some of the cream flying across the room. He can’t bear the thought of how stupid he looks, so he closes his eyes, like that’ll help. Like it’ll be easier if he can’t see Magnus seeing him.

He feels Magnus’s finger on his temple. A soft… careful touch.

They haven’t really touched yet. Not much, anyway. Not like this.

And while Magnus must have realized that Alec wouldn’t have agreed to this if he weren’t okay with Magnus touching his face _at least_ a little, it’s still…

It feels calculated. As light of a touch as possible, just as much as Magnus actually needs. It feels like he’s not sure if Alec will be okay with it.

When Alec doesn’t react at all, Magnus must take that as approval, because Alec feels the jarringly cold touch of the razor against his cheek a few moments later.

It’s…

It’s different. It’s not stunningly different. It still feels like shaving. But the straight razor feels so much more like a _razor_ than what Alec’s used to (even though that’s so fucking obvious that it shouldn’t be surprising). It slides down to the line of his jaw, and Alec can hear the _sound_ of it - which is something he never realized that he’s noticed before. But now he’s aware that it’s the same sound. The little… scratching, maybe? The soft, repetitive scrape of the blade against the hair, against his skin. It’s louder like this than it is with his usual razors.

Or maybe it’s not louder. Maybe he’s just noticing the sound more, since someone else is doing it. Someone else is in control of the sound.

Alec’s never had someone else shave his face for him before. It’s such a foreign concept that even processing it is strange. Someone shaving him. It sounds weird. It sounds stupid. He shaves his own goddamn face. He always has.

And he’s never shaved with a straight razor before, either. He thinks he’s supposed to care about that. He knows that it’s supposed to be inherently fancier, for some reason. Maybe just because it’s older. There’s nostalgia and tradition attached to it. So far, he can’t really tell if it’s any ‘better’ than his own, non-straight razors.

(And… there’s a joke in there, somewhere. He’ll have to figure out what it is later).

He doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t think he could, even if he wanted to. Because Magnus is standing over him, looking at him, shaving his face. And that’s… that’s too much. Hell, just Magnus being in the same room as him still feels like too much. This is just…

Alec feels like he should say something. He _hates_ that he feels like that, but it can’t be helped. For fuck’s sake, he can barely stand getting a haircut from a stranger because of how obligated he feels to _talk_ during it. With Magnus, it’s infinitely more. With Magnus, today, where they are, it’s infinitely worse.

He takes a breath. He waits for Magnus to take the razor away from his skin for a moment, and he opens his mouth.

And then he closes it again.

“What?”

Alec smiles. Apparently, he’s still just as predictable, after all this time. Just as easy to read. “Never mind. It’s dumb.”

Magnus hums. “Say it anyway.” And, that…

There’s something in his voice. Something soft, some hint of playfulness. It’s not teasing, or wry. It’s not overt as it would have been, before all of this. But, still.

It’s nice.

Alec rubs his lips together-

Or he starts to, anyway. Then he remembers that there’s an outrageous amount of shaving cream lining them, and he thinks better of it.

“I just, um. I was _gonna_ say that I didn’t know you knew how to do this.” He still can’t bring himself to open his eyes, but he raises his eyebrow a bit, and hopes that it communicates the same expression of acknowledgement - that he _knows_ how stupid this is. “But then my brain started working again, and I remembered that this used to be, like. The only option.” Alec assumed that he’d long-since have stopped having revelations like this, but still, he’s sometimes stupid enough to forget that Magnus even predates _electric_ razors, much less any other kind.

Magnus hums again - that easy, neutral hum that’s just following the rhythm of the conversation, not an actual reaction. “I think it’s fair to say that shaving someone _else’s_ face is a different enough skill set for this to be a valid surprise.”

Alec wrinkles his nose. “I dunno, I think you doing this makes too much sense for it to be considered ‘surprising’.”

Because it does. It makes so much sense that Alec doesn’t know how he made it three and a half years with Magnus without knowing about it. Alec sure as fuck doesn’t know many old-timey barber stereotypes (since he’s pretty sure Sweeney Todd doesn’t count as a legitimate frame of reference), but it just _feels_ like it’d be a perfect fit for Magnus. The perfect job for him.

Huh. Maybe it was, at some point. Alec thinks there are probably an _infinite_ number of Magnus Professions that he still doesn’t know about. This could easily be another one. He should ask about that. He-

He _could_ ask about that. It’s… possible.

But Magnus brings the razor down his cheek again…

And Alec doesn’t say anything. Because he doesn’t… want to. It’s not that simple yet. It’s not to a point where Alec can just… say things. Unimportant things. Not in a string, anyway. Not as a full conversation. Alec can’t make conversation yet. He’s already said one stupid comment; that’s all he gets for now. Even sitting in this chair, even with that weird associative small talk pressure of being in a salon chair (which he feels now, regardless of the fact that he’s in a kitchen chair in his own goddamn bathroom). Even with that pressure, he still can’t do it. It still feels too unusual. Too new. Or too old? Too… lost. Too needing-to-be-recovered. He doesn’t know how to talk to Magnus right now. It’s like he’s…

He’s gotten too used to it. He’s too used to not talking to Magnus. He’s too used to being afraid of talking to Magnus. It’s become his default.

Even though that’s… changed. It’s not ‘done’ - that word implies closure, implies that everything (or anything) is fixed.

And it isn’t. But it’s changed, maybe. Started. And just because something has started to change, started to fix, that doesn’t mean they’ve gone back to what it was like before any of this happened.

Alec thinks that’s what’s throwing him off. He’d sort of thought that when things finally started improving (on the rare days when he was optimistic enough to think that would ever happen in the first place), they’d… reset. There were two options in his mind: that they’d be stuck, in all that horrible shit, trapped permanently in such a miserable place, or they’d go back to normal - well, what _used_ to be ‘normal’. Back to how things were when they first adopted Max. Back to before that, even. Back to when problems like this had been unthinkable.

Those were the only outcomes Alec could imagine.

And now they’re in this new, unpredictable… third option. Where that barrier has been breached, and they’ve said what they need to say, and thev’ve stopped - or started.

But that’s the _only_ thing that’s changed. They’ve talked about it. They’ve acknowledged the problems, the issues, they’ve agreed to… try. They’ve agreed to try to fix things.

Now, they actually have to fix them.

Magnus doesn’t say anything. It feels like he’s working pretty quickly - but maybe that’s just because he can get rid of all of Alec’s beard at once, without having to stop to clear anything out from between stacked razor blades. He finishes one cheek, gives Alec another one of those hesitant touches to tilt his head, starts the other cheek, works down onto his neck…

It’s smooth. Alec doesn’t feel any nicks, any uncomfortable scrapes, any close calls. He feels the air on his skin again, in a way he hasn’t in more months than he can count. He doesn’t have to touch his face to know how smooth it feels. He can tell. It feels a little raw, a little cold, a little… exposed.

It’s so fucking nice.

Magnus touches Alec again, a little nudge to get him to tilt his head back a bit more. He still doesn’t say anything. Neither of them do.

They’re in the same room, in a situation where they could (and maybe should) be talking. And they’re silent. Which, technically, is how they’ve been for months.

But it feels so different. Alec has to breathe a little deeper when he realizes how different it feels.

They’re not talking to each other, but for once, _finally,_ it’s because there’s nothing they need to say, not because there’s too much they need to say, that neither of them are _willing_ to say. They’re quiet now, because they… can be. And it’s freeing. It’s a relief.

So Alec’s not entirely sure why he can only go ten seconds before he needs to force himself to release all the tension in his shoulders. Why his chest still stings with heartburn. Why his stomach is unsettled.

It’s like it’s still too new. The idea that things are different now. That he doesn’t _need_ to feel that stress and anxiety and misery. His body is so used to keeping him in a constant low-level panic attack that it’s like it doesn’t remember how to be _regular_ anymore. He’s so used to being stressed that his body hasn’t realized that the source of the stress is gone now. There’s this big, empty space in his mind - the place where he’s been keeping all of that worry and fear and hatred and shame and guilt… and nothing has stepped in to fill its place yet. It might still be a while before his body actually catches up with the situation.

It doesn’t feel permanent yet. It feels too fragile. Like Alec’s still not completely convinced that it happened. Because it would have been so easy for it _not_ to have happened.

If Magnus’s appointment hadn’t canceled yesterday. If he hadn’t decided to come home early, without warning Alec. If he hadn’t walked in during what had become Alec’s daily, regularly-scheduled naptime breakdown. If he’d ignored it. If he’d listened when Alec said he didn’t want to talk about it. If he’d believed Alec when he’d said it was nothing. If-

That doesn’t matter. That’s pointless. Because it _did_ happen. Something happened. A conversation happened. So it doesn’t matter that it almost didn’t. It doesn’t matter that it was a coincidence, not a plan.

It doesn’t matter that it was an accident, not a choice.

Magnus shaves Alec’s chin in just a few strokes. He gets what Alec is pretty sure are the last of the tiny globs of shaving cream on his neck. And he-

_Fuck._

He puts his finger (or maybe his thumb?) on the bottom of Alec’s nose, and gently pushes it up.

And Alec only _barely_ manages to contain himself to one loud, surprised laugh. It doesn’t actually _tickle,_ but he sure reacts like it does.

Which is fucking goddamn _stupid,_ because he damn well knows that it’s just so Magnus can shave his lip. It’s something Alec’s done to himself every single time he’s shaved, something he understands is an obvious, necessary part of this.

He’s just never had someone else do it to him. He’s never had someone else smush his nose up.

“Sorry,” Magnus says, with a soft, gentle silliness in his voice. Like it’s funny to him. As funny as it is to Alec.

“Just wasn’t expecting it,” Alec blurts, forcing his mouth into a neutral enough shape to let Magnus finish.

It doesn’t take much longer, after that. A few careful strokes above his upper lip. A few moments of stillness. A few random touch-ups here and there. The sound of the razor being set on the counter. The touch of the washcloth against his temple, behind his ear, all the places there’s some leftover shaving cream with nothing to shave.  

And then, “Alright. Done.”

Alec opens his eyes, blinking through the awkward adjustment to light and air and actually functioning again.

Magnus is standing next to him, leaning against the counter. “How’s it feel?”

Alec already knows the answer. He doesn’t have to _test_ that.

But he does anyway. He takes a breath, and runs his fingers along his jaw, over his cheek, onto his neck. He makes a little noise without meaning to. “Better.”

“Don’t sound _too_ excited.” Magnus’s voice has that bit of teasing in it again. It’s still half-hearted. Still a little… stale. He’s not really committed to it. Maybe he’s not sure if they’re ready for teasing yet.

Alec smiles. “Ask me again once I get some makeup on.”

“Ooh,” Magnus raises his eyebrows, “are we getting dressed up tonight?”

“I don’t know about you,” Alec says, trying to match that hint of playfulness in Magnus’s tone, “but I sure as hell am.”

“Well, you know I _hate_ to be under-dressed.”

He smirks, and Alec laughs quietly. Because it’s a bit of a joke. It’s _almost_ a joke. The idea of them getting dressed up, wearing fancy clothes, putting any amount of effort into their appearances, when they both know damn well that they’re not going to leave the hotel room for a _second._ No one’s gonna see them, except the front desk, and probably room service.

That’s the whole point. Getting away. Being alone, for a bit. _Really_ alone, in a way they haven’t been in almost a year and a half. Just Alec, and Magnus. No Max. No responsibilities. Nothing to worry about, for a night.

On paper, it sounds like a vacation. A break from parenting duties. A chance to sleep through the night, sleep in as late as they want, have someone else make their breakfast in the morning. It sounds like it should be just for the fun of it.

And it is, in a way. It’s a break. It’s all those things. But it’s also necessary. It’s a step. Another step.

Because even yesterday, right in the middle of it, as Alec was finally saying everything he’d needed to say for so long… Max had woken up, and started crying for them, for attention. They’d had to stop. With Alec still sitting on the edge of the bed, still trying to catch his breath, still wiping furiously at his eyes. Magnus had had to leave him, for a few minutes. To take care of Max.

They need time without that. Even if it’s just a night.

But, still.

It may be an important night, will all sorts of vague weight and _meaning_ attached to it. And they may just be locking themselves in a room away from the rest of the world for a few hours. But that’s sure as fuck not gonna stop Alec from looking nice.

He’s gonna shower after they finish this. He’s gonna shave his legs. He’s gonna do _something_ to his hair (not that there’s much to be done when it’s this uncomfortably shaggy).

And he’s gonna put on his nicest lingerie.

And his nicest clothes.

And his nicest makeup. His nicest makeup, on his nice, smooth, shaven face.

And he’s gonna feel nice.

Regardless of whatever else happens, whatever else he and Magnus still need to talk about, and figure out, and work through. Alec’s going to feel nice tonight.

“You sure Cat’s alright with this?” Alec’s head is still tipped back, resting against the counter. He just has to turn it a bit to be able to see Magnus above him. “‘Cause you just _know_ Max is gonna be horrible tonight.” It’s just their luck. Just Cat’s luck.

Magnus smiles - but not too cheerfully. Not like he’s being overly optimistic about this. “She’ll be fine. She said she’s going to call Isabelle if she needs backup.”

Alec feels the tiniest rush of relief, just from hearing that. Max is definitely best handled by a two-person team. Even when he’s in a good mood, he’s just that much harder to keep track of, chase down, keep from accidentally killing himself.

Alec’s throat tightens, his chest constricts, he feels that stab of guilt from thinking something like that, that bit of sickness-

And he doesn’t have to. Not anymore.

Because now, he doesn’t have to just think it.

“Do you think he’s ever gonna calm the fuck down?” Alec asks, trying his best to smile.

Magnus hums. “Hopefully. Hopefully before he learns how to control his magic.”

“If controlling his magic means he stops accidentally poofing things out of my hands, I’m fine with that.” Alec shakes his head. “I still haven’t found my stele. It’s been two weeks.”

Magnus chuckles, folds his arms. “He hasn’t been able to tell you where it went?”

“What?” Alec scoffs. “Of course not. You know damn well he doesn’t talk when we _want_ him to.”

“God, how can a two-year-old already be so goddamn sassy?”

Alec makes a noise. He wanted it to be laugh, but it sounds too tense for that. Too startled.

He isn’t used to this yet. He isn’t used to being able to… say this. To acknowledge it. He isn’t used to how… good it feels. How freeing.

He looks up at Magnus. “Our kid’s the worst. I fucking hate him sometimes.”

It’s too much of a relief. It’s what he’s wanted to say. This whole time. Months. Over a year. He’s needed to say it, and he hasn’t been able to. It’s a rush. It hits him, and slips all the way through his body. It gets stuck in his eyes, and he has to blink a little harder to keep it back.

Magnus smiles, and Alec can see the same feeling, the same rush. “Why does he scream so much? Why can’t he _ever_ relax?”

“Why won’t he just tell us what’s wrong?”

Magnus turns a bit, angling himself toward Alec. “Because to do that, he’d have to know more than six words.”

Alec rolls his eyes. “You _know_ he knows more than that. He can say full sentences when he wants to. He just refuses.”

“And everyone says that’s _fine,_ ” Magnus rolls his eyes too, even more dramatically. “It's all, ‘Oh, every child develops at a different pace. As long as he’s learning, you don’t have to worry’.”

“I’m not saying I’m worried, I’m saying I’m fucking _annoyed!_ ” Alec laughs. “I just want one person to stop being so goddamn positive and admit that it fucking _sucks_ that he won’t talk to us more.”

“It fucking sucks.”

Alec looks up at Magnus. Magnus smiles down at him.

It suddenly feels weird, being at this angle. Alec forces himself to sit up, to lift his head off of the counter, to shift in the chair a bit so he can look at Magnus more directly.

And he smiles. “At least he’s not allergic to disposable diapers anymore.”

Magnus closes his eyes and makes a tortured little noise.“That was the worst two months of my entire life.”

Alec laughs, and-

And he realizes… how good that feels. Laughing.

Talking. Talking to Magnus. About this, in particular. About Max. About anything at all. Sitting with Magnus. Looking at him. Smiling.

Alec opens his mouth. But his breath is too weak to support his voice. So he waits a few moments, and tries again. “I-”

He feels an impulse, he feels like he should say ‘I love you’. It feels like the right thing for the moment. After all, it’s true.

But he can’t. Not right now. That’s not back yet. That’s not normal. He's too used to not saying it. He’d said it yesterday, just once, when he needed to. Magnus knows.

So Alec says the next thing instead. Just as true, and maybe a little more important.

“I’ve missed you.”

Magnus’s eyebrows tilt up. He’s still smiling, but it’s different. Softer, and a little sad. “I’ve been right here.”

It happens too quickly for Alec to fight it. He gasps in a short breath, and he looks away, and he blinks, he blinks as hard and fast and frantic as he can, but it’s still not enough-

“Oh, no, angel,” Magnus crouches down next to Alec. He puts his hand on Alec’s face, and catches a few stray tears with his thumb. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Alec closes his eyes. “I know.” He sniffs. Keeps blinking. “But… it’s still true, right?”

Magnus has been right here, this whole time. In the same apartment, the same bed. He would have listened. Yesterday is proof that he would have listened.

And Alec didn’t say anything, for over a year.

So much could have been avoided. So much time was wasted. All because Alec couldn’t fucking open his goddamn mouth.

“Hey.” Magnus presses his palm more firmly against Alec’s cheek. And he waits until Alec looks at him. “That all…” his mouth moves for a moment, like he hasn’t picked the right words yet. “That is what it is. There’s no changing it now.” His thumb strokes gently underneath Alec’s eye again. “But it’s done.”

At face value, that’s not a comforting thought. It’s not positive, or encouraging.

But hearing Magnus say it makes Alec feel better than he’s felt in… as long as he can remember.

He can’t talk. He doesn’t know what he’d say. He knows what he _wants_ to say, but he knows he’s not ready to say that right now. Maybe tonight. Definitely tonight.

For now, he just nods. And after taking a moment to steady himself, he turns his head, and presses his lips to Magnus’s palm.

That’s the first moment he realizes that… Magnus is touching his face. And Alec is kissing his hand. It’s…

It’s been a long time.

Alec stays like that for as long as he can, until he has to move his mouth away to breathe. He opens his eyes as soon as he thinks he can manage it.

Magnus is smiling at him.

A small, familiar smile.

It’s been too long.

“So, this- ah. This hotel?” Alec tries to make his voice light, tries to make his mouth cooperate enough to make his smile playful, tries to blink everything else away. “Any chance it’s got a decent bathtub?”

Magnus’s smile grows. “There’s a jacuzzi in the suite.” He raises an eyebrow. “I know what my fiance likes.”

Alec lets out an embarrassing little hum, overwhelmed by how _fucking nice_ that sounds. He’d been excited enough at the prospect of getting to take a real bath again, even if that came at the expense of locking himself in the bathroom and inevitably shutting himself away from Magnus for an hour. The idea of getting to take a bath right in the room, while Magnus is still there, probably in bed, so they can both watch some stupid tv shows and eat a whole serving cart of fancy-person junk food and not do _anything_ and be… together. Be themselves, again.

It’s not a fix. Not an instant solution.

But it’s something.

It’s a start.

Magnus slips his fingers into Alec’s hair, brushing it back over his ear. “I think it’s going to be a _wonderful_ night, Alec-” He hesitates for a moment, then smiles. “Alexander.”

Alec takes a breath. “Yeah.”

It’ll be a good night. It’ll be really good.

They’ll be good.

It’ll take a while. More of this awkward fumbling. Piecing things back together. Re-learning things they learned such a long time ago. Figuring out new things. But they will. They’ll do it.

Alec smiles. “It’ll be good.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for making one of the angstiest chapters the longest one in the entire series. When I started working on this prompt, I guarantee that I did not anticipate this outcome. 
> 
> Also, small update:
> 
> In the past few months, I've been answering mini-prompts on my [tumblr](http://my-nameless-bliss.tumblr.com), some of which are technically part of the ALDNT canon. If you're interested in reading them, they're all assembled [here](http://my-nameless-bliss.tumblr.com/aldnt-prompts).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Repairing A Broken Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14839427) by [issybird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/issybird/pseuds/issybird)




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